Glitch
by chloe.quinn.96
Summary: When Nightwing becomes ensnared in an exceptionally gifted hacker's web, he dances a very dangerous line – criminal or hero. [COMPLETE] - See book 2, Rewire.
1. Chapter 1

PART 1: HERO

" _Go, Max, I can't do this much longer."_

 _I stared at him, agonised, clinging to him for dear life. "No, I won't leave you. We go together or not at all."_

 _He smiled sadly. "Not this time."_

 **One. Glitch**

 **Gotham 8:00AM**

 _Act normal. Don't stand out. You belong here._ I chanted as I entered the sterile foyer, dressed like some fresh-eyed intern, clutching at my forged ID. It was a good forgery, the kind so good it even fooled scanners. Still, as I strode up to the security check point and set my bags on the scanner, I held her breath, forcing a smile. Steeling my spine I stepped through, waiting for the scanner to start wailing, lights to flash madly, police bursting from the shadows.

But nothing happened. The guard looked at me impatiently, glaring faintly until I tapped my ID on the panel where my bags fed out and hurried off with the bags. I went over to the front desk, where a pretty young receptionist smiled breezily as I approached.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

I set my introduction letters on the desk – fakes, naturally. "Hi, I'm Meghan Willoughby. I'm here for the assistant interviews."

"Of course. You're an hour early, though," commented the receptionist. "You can go up and wait in the upstairs lounge – it's on the sixteenth floor, just outside the elevator. You can't miss it."

"Are you sure? I only left early you see because I was worried I'd get stuck in traffic. I don't want to get anyone in trouble," I said nervously – in the back of my mind I wondered if it was too much.

The receptionist laughed. "Oh, don't worry. Just head up."

"Thank you so much. My feet are _killing_ me," I gushed, gathering up the paperwork. With a final smile I stepped away and strode over to the elevator.

I almost felt bad for fooling her – _almost._

As instructed I took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor, listening to the crappy music idly, drumming my fingers against the folder tucked under my arm. I glanced up at the digital display, at the rising numbers, stopping at sixteen with a cheery ding. The doors whirred open.

I eyed the lounge room warily to see if anyone was there. Thankfully, it was empty, as was much of the floor as I strode through, looking like I knew what I was doing – like I worked there. If anyone asked I already had several stories ready, each ready for a different type of person.

Following the layout in my mind I stopped at a security door, locked by a number panel. The first layer. Glancing around I saw I was alone and so I set my palm over the panel, closing my eyes. In my mind I saw the millions of layers of code, the numbers forming an order that to me, and machine alike, made sense. I willed the door to open, infusing new lines of code until I heard the door whir open. Opening my eyes I hurried through, then closed it shut behind me, removing the code I'd slipped in. Deleting all traces of my intrusion. It was like I never even existed at all.

I followed the white-lit hall, flanked by doors leading off to a variety of rooms – none of which were important to me. At the end I reached another elevator, which was secured by both a code and thumb scanner. Again, it posed no challenge and in a flash I was through. There was only one destination I could go. One button to push. After several bated breaths the elevator moved, though for scarcely very long, opening into a lab.

Full of computers, as well as medical equipment I didn't recognise, it was everything I'd hoped it was. State of the art, the best of the best. I strode over to the nearest desk and sat down before an enormous computer screen, plugging in a thumb drive as everything fired up. Once the screen flickered to life I made quick work of their security and was in in a flash, the thumb drive opened and ready to go. The program I'd made up slipped into the computer, a fox on the trail of a chicken. Bit by bit it sniffed out the information I needed; files on interesting people, laboratory locations, along with some other curious information.

When it finally downloaded I set off a small virus, something to erase my tracks, then delete itself. It wasn't one hundred percent fool proof and someone utterly exception would be able to dig around and see that something had been tampered. However, there was not enough left to be traced to be – and I didn't even exist in any real data base, not for a long time. To the real world I was dead, killed by a tragic accident long ago.

I slipped the thumb drive back into my bag, hiding it in a secret compartment of my compact. Nano tech sealed it, making it impossible for anyone _but_ me to open it up and get the drive. Even if scanned it would read harmless. A handy little piece of tech I'd nicked ages ago.

Careful to wipe down any surfaces I touched I made my retreat, tracing my steps carefully until I was safely back on the sixteenth floor. I approached the normal elevator just as it opened, several prospective assistants spilling out, all dressed impeccably. One girl glanced at me as I slipped past them into the elevator, dismissing me as someone called to her. The doors closed behind me and I was on my way down.

Out in the foyer I strode past the receptionist, who shot me a curious look. Likely she wondered why I was leaving so early but she didn't call out. I made it through security easy enough, wasting no times grabbing my stuff and striding through the front doors. Something caught my eye – a flash of movement across the street - and I walked straight into someone.

I would've stumbled back – or hit the ground – but firm hands grabbed me, saving me from whatever disaster loomed. Blinking several times I looked up, right into a pair of dark blue eyes and a surprisingly attractive face. Unfortunately, I knew who he was and stepped back hastily. Richard bloody Grayson, adopted son of _Bruce Wayne._

"Uh, sorry for that. I got distracted," I said, already trying to move away.

"Hey, wait!" He made a step towards me. "You don't have to run off. Can I buy you coffee as an apology?"

I frowned. "But _I_ walked into _you?"_

To my surprise – and perhaps irritation – he grinned, then rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, but I was kind of blocking the way. It's not really your fault."

Thinking about the thumb drive and the contents I knew I had to get away. "It's okay – really. Listen, I'm in a bit of a hurry. So I have to go. It was nice meeting you Mr Greyson."

Stunned, he didn't stop me as I stepped around him and hurried away. It was only when I was twenty or so metres away I heard him call out.

"I didn't get your name."

I turned around and smiled. "That's because I didn't give it."

* * *

 _ **A**_ _security breach?_ Stretched out in the bat cave – the owner of said cave out in a meeting with the League – Dick browsed the information he'd nabbed from the computers at Wayne Tech. It wasn't much. Whoever had done it was exceptionally clever. Loops had been placed on all the security cameras on the sixteenth floor and the doors had shown signs of tampering, yet nothing to help him identify the thief.

He sighed and leaned back, glaring at the screen. Dead end after dead end. Part of him deliberated going to the League. As good as he was there were people who had gifts, and some generally better with computers. People who could help. But doing that early on seemed to be admitting defeat. Besides, there seemed to be something intimate about finding this thief – a game had been started and he was determined to win.

After a couple more hours he siphoned off the information onto a thumb drive. He'd continue after he had a decent night's sleep back at Bludhaven. There, he'd use his computers. That, and there were some dubious hackers in the city who might have some answers – or know something about a mysterious hacker.

He got up, sliding the thumb drive into his jacket pocket, when the back entrance hummed open. It was Alfred's stooped frame that came down softly down the steps. As usual Alfred noticed him the second he'd entered and, at the bottom, looked up with a warm, grandfatherly smile.

"Master Dick, Bruce did not mention you were visiting," commented Alfred with a knowing look. "Did you find what you were after?"

Dick shook his head. "No luck. Don't suppose you can avoid telling Bruce about me coming here?"

"I never saw you," replied Alfred and, as Dick made his way over to his bike, called out once more. "Do ensure you have breakfast – you are starting to waste away."

As he rode through Gotham, winding through the thick traffic amongst the labyrinth of concrete buildings, he found his mind shifting back to the girl at Wayne Tech. She'd stood out. Even in the usual business black skirt and white blouse she didn't strike him as the usual assistant type – or even the business type. There was an edge to her. As she'd walked away she'd kept glancing around, like she was expecting to be followed. Was she the hacker? The timing of her departure fitted but maybe it was the Batman in him thinking. Hundreds of employers slipped in and out of the company every day, dozens at any one moment. The timing with her was perfect but he recalled a dozen others who left at the same time, seconds apart. Any one of them could've been the hacker. Heck, the true thief might not have even _used_ the front door – there was at least four other exits, one of which was renowned for glitch cameras. They could've slipped out there.

Too many questions, too few answers. He banked down Vozmer St, downtown Gotham. A dozen or so seedy clubs, most of which were owned by the shifting crime mobs that flittered in and out of Gotham. Part of him was looking for a fight, something to distract him for a moment. If Bruce knew what he was doing he'd get a lecture about recklessness, or something about stupidity.

Stopping at a red light he was lost in his own thoughts when he saw a girl stumble out of a bar, completely drunk. Followed closely by two guys – no good intentions as they stalked her. He quietly edged the bike over to the side of the road, then leapt off. Just as he did one of the guys grabbed the girl – she let out a scream, then a string of curses. He burst into a sprint, tearing into the alley just as one guy crumpled to the ground. The other one was on his knees, a gun pointed at his head.

"Benny said I was _free_ to go – I don't remember his words being kill me," she spat – the same girl from Wayne Tech, dressed a lot more comfortably all in black, a beanie drawn down over her thick black hair.

"You _used_ him – boss don't like people using him," spat the kneeling man. "You won't get away with this. He'll find you."

For a second her eyes flickered up to Dick but she didn't seem surprised – or even afraid. The moment passed as she returned her cold gaze to the man and she smiled.

"I don't _exist._ He won't find me. He can't. And, if by some miracle, he does, he can't do _anything_ – he won't. Now, I _knew_ your boss would fail this little test, so let him know if he tries _anything_ like this again he'll be broke so fast that he won't be able to even buy toilet paper to wipe his ass – got it?"

Before the man could speak she crashed the gun across his head, sending him crumpling to the ground. His chest moved faintly. Still breathing. Dick watched as she rummaged through each of their jackets, fishing out money, along with some other small items. When she was done she stood up and looked at him with a frown.

"What's a rich boy like you doing in a place like this?"

He stared at her. "I could ask the same of you. I mean I was going to-"

"Save me?" Her brow lifted, the corner of her lips twitching – damn, did she have to be hot? "That's _heroic_ of you but I'm fine."

He smiled – a real smile. "I try. Now, should I be afraid of 'Benny's' friends coming out soon?"

A big smile stretched her lips. "No but you shouldn't stick around."

"I know a good diner nearby – it's open twenty four seven and it does a wicked chilly fries." He glanced at the men and knew he had to get her away, figure out what the hell she was wrapped up in – what was the chance after all of bumping into her twice in thirty hours?

She eyed him curiously. "You really are determined to get my name, aren't you? It is kind of creepy."

"And you strike me as a girl whom is capable of kicking my ass if I stepped out of line."

Gliding past him she slid the gun into her bag. At the end of the alley she turned around and smiled.

"It's Meghan."


	2. Chapter 2

" _He's gone."_

 _The words tasted like ash in my mouth as I stared out across the city, eerily oblivious beneath a clear night sky. Beside me, Sasha, the closest person I had to family anymore, buried her hands into the depths of her coat._

" _It's a big world out there – where will you start?"_

 _I glanced at her. "With the man who kidnapped Sam and I."_

 **Two. Fantasy**

 _What are you doing, Max?_

Sitting across from the famous Richard Grayson in the seediest part of Gotham at two am was the least thing I'd expected. Seeing him come to my 'rescue' as Benny's goons tried to jump me was surprising – I was half interested to see if he'd stalked me. If so, how he tracked me. If not, and it was fortuitous, then I was curious. No one ever noticed me. He was the first – and persistent, too.

I dug my fork in, scooping out a massive bite of chilly fries, then ate it – slowly. Setting the fork down I peered at Dick curiously.

"So, you've got me, what's a rich kid like you doing in this part of town? I mean, I'm here for a long list of reasons and this pretty much my scene. You? You stand out like a sore thumb."

He smiled wickedly, sending ice threading down my spine. "Maybe I'm more comfortable here than you think."

"Oh, now that I find hard to believe – you probably found this on a google search."

To his credit he leaned forward and stuck a fork into my serve of chilly fries, shovelling a bite into his mouth. I watched him finish it, a tiny drop of chilly on his mouth. It was tempting to reach over and wipe it away. So easy. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my nerves.

"You have me all figured out, don't you?" He challenged, wiping that bit of chilly away.

I studied him for a moment, my head tilted to the side. "I think you've got secrets – guys like you always do. In fact, I reckon you've got even more than me."

"Guys like me?" His brow lifted.

Before I had a chance to answer my phone buzzed. I dug it out from my bag and looked at the message that had popped up.

WT DEAD END.

Internally, I cursed. I'd hoped the data I'd fished from Wayne Tech would lead somewhere. One more bread crumb in the trail but it was nothing. I thought that a big company like Wayne Tech would be involved, since Benny had mentioned that the biggest company in the city had been tied up with some genetics company. He didn't have a name for the company, only a bunch of vague clues.

"Bad news?" Dick's voice slithered through my lost thoughts, tugging me back to the diner.

I glanced up, blinking. "Just a disappointment. Not that it matters. Anyway, I should probably be going."

Dick stood up. "Can I walk you home?"

"As much as I'd love to take you back to my place and have my wicked way with you I don't think my room mate would be very happy. That, and she's intensely private and I don't really feel like having her yell at me for bringing a stranger to our door," I said.

"Another time, maybe?" He asked as we walked outside.

I lingered by the side walk as he approached his bike. "Wait." As he turned I stepped close – felt him go rigid as I invaded his personal space without warning – and looked up at him. "Something for coming to my rescue." I went up onto my toes and kissed him – it was meant to be gentle, brief even. Dick had other ideas. His arm snaked around me, yanking me closer, a gasp breaking from my lips. He slanted his head, deepening the kiss, fire burning my lips.

I pulled away. "Greedy little rich boy."

"Can I see you again?"

As fun as everything had been I felt something bad tug at my gut. I quickly kissed his cheek again, before he could return it and stepped back, out of reach. Old memories stirred. Regretfully, I shook my head.

"I had a fun night but that's all. You should go."

* * *

 **Sasha** was home, which was rare, and I as I walked into the apartment, I smelt her cooking. Not burning – a change. She stood over the stove top, stirring slowly. Not her usual aggressive and frustrated attempts to cook. I approached warily.

"What's all this?"

Sasha turned and held out a spoon full of a murky green liquid, which smelt vaguely of peas. I tried it, then withdrew with a surprised expression.

"This doesn't taste like ash – or something rotten."

She slapped my arm playfully and turned back to her cooking. I was still weirded out by her show of normal, like she was a house wife from the fifties. If she wore a vintage dress and did her hair up, rather than the messy bun she had, she would've completed the look. As it stood, dressed in a baggy shirt, ripped jeans and boots, she looked like she'd just come from a street fight. Blonde strands dangled around her face, the nape of her neck and past her tiny ears.

"Have fun with Richey-rich?"

I dumped my bag and sat on the dining table. "Don't."

Sasha turned off the stove and pushed the pot off the heat before turning to, dark eyes narrow with suspicion. I knew I'd broken our pact – the oath I'd sworn when she had busted me out of hospital.

"We made a _deal,_ " stressed Sasha, her hand curling into a fist, anger simmering in her eyes.

"You act like I've been sneaking behind your back in some sordid affair," I replied, unperturbed.

Sasha's gaze narrowed. "Is this a joke?"

"No and it was a spur of the moment decision to get him off my back. I doubt he'll remember me tomorrow," I said and jumped off the table. "I spoke to Benny. He mentioned a lab that's just been opened up, funded by guess who."

Some of the anger bled from Sasha's eyes as she exhaled deeply, likely to stop herself from strangling me. Her eyes flickered open, a little more reasonable and relaxed. The calm, calculating Sasha I had become accustomed to, slowly returned.

"Who?"

"Vandal Savage. I wonder if the Bat knows he's lurking in town."

Sasha's gaze clouded. "If the League get involved – if they catch you…"

"They'll what? They won't do anything as bad as what I've endured. Now, are you going to help me break into this lab or not?"

* * *

 **D** ick was surprised when Bruce called him to the cave. But when he came down his gaze snapped to the files he'd been searching through before. The break in at Wayne Tech. Yet, accompanying it, was another collection of files. He crossed the great space between the stairs and the screen and stopped just beside Bruce.

"The company was hacked," Bruce said. "You knew."

"I was looking into it."

Bruce glanced at him, then back to the screen. "I found dozens of similar attacks going back a decade. All are traced to someone called Glitch – an exceptional hacker whom somehow broken into just about everywhere, including government facilities. What seems interesting about this job was that the information was taken was so general it seems as though the hacker was searching for something but didn't have time to be picky."

"Any idea what?"

Bruce nodded and brought up a list of offsite labs. "This was the main focus it seems. They were after lab locations but none are of any particular threat to anyone – fairly harmless projects."

"So the threat to the company is gone and the hacker is gone," murmured Dick, wondering if Bruce was simply going to drop the investigation into the hacker.

Stepping back from the screen Bruce folded his arms and stared at the information displayed contemplatively. "Wherever this hacker goes chaos follows – it seems they don't care what damage they do in their search for whatever they're after.

* * *

" _You have to go! You can't stay here, Max!" Sam tried to push at me, his solid hands glowing with energy – he was glowing. Keeping both he and I sane in the machine was taking a toll. We had to leave. Both of us._

 _I shook my head vehemently, wrapping my hands firmly around his upper arms. "No, not without you. We go together or not at all."_

 _Something changed in his eyes in that moment – a realisation that began with him and sickened inside of me. I tried to pull away. If he couldn't touch me he couldn't – but it was too late. A great wave of energy surged up inside of me, curling around the link between Sam and I – and cut it._

 _I screamed as I was blown away – an invisible force hurtling me away from him. I screamed his name and screamed to stay and-_

I jolted upright, awake, tears burning my cheeks. Sasha yanked me into her arms, rubbing small circles down my back as I sobbed, unable to stop or be quiet. The grief, too raw and wild, bucked and kicked against my chest – against my soul, battering me. I tightened my grasp on Sasha, as if she, too, would push me away and I'd be alone again. Fear gnawed at my mind, a poison slowly invading every inch of me.

"Why did he push me away? He's my brother," I whispered so softly it was like I wasn't even talking.

But Sasha heard – she always heard. She knew how I was feeling. In many similar ways, she grieved to. She loved Sam, was even engaged. Through our hug I felt the ring dangling around her neck pressing into my skin. A reminder of the ties that bound us.

"Because he's Sam and he does what he must for those he loves. No sense both of you being trapped. If one escaped then one could free the other," murmured Sasha sensibly.

"But why me? He would've been better, been able to find me faster than I have been able to search for him-"

But the answer hung between us like a sickness – _because you wouldn't have been strong enough to survive within the machine. Not as long as Sam._

 _Weak._

 _Runt._

 _Pathetic._

Sasha stayed until my cries grew silent, my breath simply haggard breaths. She withdrew, murmuring that I should try and get some sleep. Surprisingly, she returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea and some pills. Downing them without argument, I set on the tea and, once that was finished, fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep where not even the nightmares could touch me.

I woke the next morning to the soundtrack of Greece belting through the apartment. Groggy, I shuffled out into the living room where Sasha had dozens of blueprints sprawled across the floor, the coffee table pushed aside. She glanced up, dark lines under her eyes, her hair a birds nest and dragged into a tangled bun.

"I've been pouring over the plans to this lab – there are a couple ways in we could use and with your ability the security shouldn't be much of an issue," she said carefully, her eyes flickering back to the plans warily.

"But?"

" _But,_ " she began, drawing a deep, steady breath, "There is the matter of his guards. They're meta humans and not your run of the mill ones. They're trained."

"Send the League in," I said.

Sasha's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry – _what?"_

I sat down beside her, studying the notes for the moment. "Send the League a tip off – a lie about some doomsday device. Something big enough to send in a couple of their big wigs. Think of it as a kind of distraction." I pointed to a section on one of the blue prints. "We slip in here – we'll be in and out before they even know we were there."


	3. Chapter 3

" _What do they want with us Sam?" I asked, clutching at my big brother's arm, staring in fright at the scientists beyond our bars._

 _Sam put a hand over mine and squeezed it. "Everything will be fine."_

 _It wasn't._

 **Three. Thief**

Night settled over the fringes of Gotham in a deep, smothering fog. It pervaded amongst the densely packed apartment blocks, settling over the roads like a blanket. A deep chill pinched the air, so cold it stole all the warmth from my bones. Even under two layers of expensive thermals, a thick leather jacket and fur-lined boots, I was frozen, sitting on Sasha's bike. Waiting for Sasha I kept checking my phone, studying notes I'd jotted down earlier. I turned the app off and my screen saver stared back at me, my heart aching.

 _Sam._

It was a picture I'd stolen from our files – one from when the Company had been watching us. I remembered the day they took the pictures, though I'd been too young to realise we were being watched. Sam knew, I think. We'd been out in the park, enjoying a gusting wind and a new kite Sam had bought for me – something to cheer me up since our foster family at the time weren't very nice. I was so happy – laughing hysterically, enraptured by the flying kite. It wasn't even a big or fancy kite, not like some that were out that day. But despite my ecstatic joy Sam had been edgy that day, looking around. Had he known we were being watched? It was almost a year later before we were grabbed.

When Sasha finally reappeared, sporting her signature black suit with a doll-like mask on, I prepared myself.

"Ready?" I asked, as she stopped before me.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, reaching out for me.

I took her hand and just like I was sucked into her, no more than energy coursing through her, a second soul, another mind. Staring through her eyes made me dizzy for a moment but as my thoughts cleared I stretched out, easing myself into the control chair. I rolled my fingers, then stretched out each arm, testing the connection.

 _Good to go,_ Sasha's voice floated in.

I touched my cheek, my fingers brushing the cool mask. In an instant I'd become Glitch – affectionately dubbed by the urchins of the street – and no one knew me. Even if they tore off the mask they'd see Sasha's face – and she had the uncanny ability to change that as she desired. It was the perfect act. Untraceable.

Climbing back on the bike I made myself comfortable, sitting more hunched due to Sasha's tall frame – yet, on _that_ thought, I seemed to shrink until I was the same size as my own body.

 _Thanks,_ I said internally.

Sasha merely hummed in response, impatience tugging at my thoughts. Her impatience. For a moment I let myself separate her feelings and mind, cleave a divide between the two minds. As the difference snapped comfortably into two, I felt my own thoughts clear and Sasha's grow quiet. It didn't silence her but it stopped her constant stream of thought from clouding or confusing mine. That, and it made the separation easier when the time came.

I nudged the bike out and in a flash I was off, racing down the street for four blocks. At an intersection I slowed the bike and turned, appearing within a minute or so at an intersection jutting off the water. I kept the speed down and eventually parked in a shadowy alley, cloaked the two buildings that towered on either side. As I climbed off I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to midnight. That gave me five minutes to make it to the waiting spot. Once the bike was locked up, then hidden beneath a dark, camouflaged blanket I fished out from beneath the seat, I made my way down the desolate street. My feet made no sound against the concrete, the shoes dampening any sound, and made me feel like a wraith – a ghost gliding forward, propelled by some sort of mystical energy.

I shook my head. Being inside of Sasha always seemed to draw out the superstitious side of me, as if lured from the dark depths of my minds where the demons lurked.

Silent, I made my way to the lab.

* * *

 **D** ick had been at the Watchtower by a strike of fate. He'd initially agreed to come because Artemis had taken up a job as assistant trainer, helping Black Canary train the sidekicks, and wanted to talk him into it. Truthfully, he'd really only come because she asked – not because of _why_ she asked, since he had no intention of agreeing. Too many memories. But the second he'd arrived he'd learned that she had cancelled, that there hadn't been time to send ahead and, since he'd come a couple hours early in the hopes of dismissing the job offer quickly and focus more on catching up, there hadn't been time to tell him. To give ample warning to _not_ come. After that he made his way to the main mess, which was filled with a few new heroes, along with Hawkman and Hawkgirl. The two seemed to be in a deep conversation but Shiera glanced up and smiled at him, followed by a quick but kind smile from her husband.

He had a small pasta meal, sitting alone by the window, overlooking earth below. When he finished he was about to rise when a surprising face sat down opposite him. Conner.

"Hey – I didn't think you came here anymore," said Conner conversationally but Dick knew his old friend wrestled with Dick's decision to leave. He knew Conner understood but still felt annoyed Dick was adamant on not coming back, that he was content doing the hero gig mostly on his own – with only the occasional job with Batman.

"I came to catch up with Artemis but she cancelled last minute. It was too late and I was already here. I'll head back soon – anyway, how is everything with you and Megan?"

At the name of his girlfriend's name Conner's face softened, then grew a little pink and nervous. He smiled faintly. "We're doing good. I got into university that's not far from her, so it's making this apartment we're sharing okay. Even if J'onn does visit randomly."

"I bet it's more planned than you think," replied Dick with a smile.

Conner glared at the table. "I wouldn't put it past him." The glare melted away and he looked up, his eyes lit with interest. "So, anyone driving you crazy yet?"

Oddly, it was Meghan's face that popped into his face – smart, witty and sexy as a goddess. He must've been smiling, or had his face show something, because as he readied a reply Conner was smiling, like he already knew what Dick was going to say.

"Maybe. I bumped into this girl a couple times and convinced her to have a late dinner with me. She's-"

"Hot?"

" _Gorgeous._ Like she'll flaw you with one look. Anyway, I'm not counting on anything yet. I may never even see her again."

Conner stared. "You met a beautiful girl and _didn't_ get her number? I'm not good with girls but aren't you supposed to do that?"

"You are but I took two attempts to get her name. I wasn't trying to push for her number. If I meet her again I'll take the hint."

"I have got to meet the girl that's got _you_ flustered," Conner chuckled. "I wonder if she knows how much she's already got you wrapped around her finger."

* * *

 _ **Where**_ _are they?_ Sasha asked, her voice crisp and clear.

I sat on the closed dumpster, staring out at the lab. Waiting. Though I'd only sent the tip off recently I'd expected the League sooner – had they gone in a different way? Had they even come at all, thinking the tipoff no more than a joke, or worse, a trap? I thought back over every carefully chosen word, accompanied by selectively chosen files. Everything had been polished, impossible to see it for the fake that it was. Or had I overestimated my ability? Their response? My own expectations? Though I'd sent off several drones, as well as hacked all the cameras looking onto the lab – since all internal cameras, including those along the perimeter, were all on a closed circuit. Which meant I wasn't seeing _anything_ inside until I got closer and could establish a link.

 _If they don't come we made need to make some more noise – something they can't ignore. A fire maybe. Any ideas?_

I felt Sasha push across images of us sneaking in _without_ the League as a distraction. In her mind we had a chance. A way in. A slim hope. She had fought me on the League idea the whole way.

My phone chimed. I drew it out and saw one of the cameras had detected something. Selecting it I watched a brief replay.

 _Bingo,_ I sent to Sasha. _We are a go._

 _Can they do one thing right?_ Sasha muttered snarkily as I leapt off the dumpster and jogged to the fringe of the alley. There, I snapped my fingers – the street lights flickered for a second, then went black. Darkness rolled across a section of the street and with the low, swirling fog, hid me as I dashed across the road – a blur amongst the dark. Keeping low I trailed along the side of the fence to the water's edge. I looked out across the small wharf jutting off the lab, likely an export for the experiments – or whatever stuff Vandal Savage was in to. I counted six guards patrolling across the wharf.

 _They're not being very good distractions,_ observed Sasha.

 _Shut up._

I fished out a small cutter from my jacket, then knelt down, pressing the cutter against the wire. A hot laser burst through, slicing through the metal like butter – guiding it I carefully cut out a tiny hole, then wriggled through. I stood up, recalling the layout of the lab, then dashed across the narrow strip to a side entrance. The key access was no issue and I was in, darting down the passage, passing several small offices. Straight into an elevator. I pressed my palm against the panel, sifting through the floors until I found the one I was after, and selected it. The elevator jolted into movement, moving down with a soft hum.

Once the doors slid open I arrived at a long corridor, one flanked by dozens of doors on either side, spaced at regular three metre intervals. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling the computers within the lab slowly slip under my command. Cameras, fire walls, diagnostic systems, machines – all fell under my command. I brought up the security systems as I approached the door at the end, sifting through the footage until I saw what I needed to. A small group of heroes entangled with a cluster of guards in an enormous room, their figures too blurry and I had not enough interest to know who had arrived. What mattered was they were keeping eyes on them, the guards honed to that area – and as it was night all the scientists had slipped out, save for a dozen or so scattered throughout, whom were working slowly several floors below.

At the final door I wove through my own codes and the door made an audible click – as I pushed against it the door opened, revealing a server room.

 _Bingo._ Sasha's approval rippled through my mind.

 _Okay we have five minutes to get all the data we can – then we're gone._ I then closed my eyes and willed our bodies to split. Energy rose up through the middle of me, prying the two souls and bodies apart – a blade slicing us in two. With a final cut I slipped free and took shape beside Sasha's wobbling form. She caught herself on a server, resuming her normal shape, flashing me a reassuring nod before setting to work on the closest server. I set to work.

The data filtered in byte by byte, all heavily encrypted. Even with my abilities it would take time to break down the information, to take apart the firewalls and retrieve what was inside. If Benny's information was right Vandal Savage had ties to the Company, to the people who caught me. I wasn't sure _how_ he was linked and there was every chance Benny _was_ lying. It wasn't my choice – it hadn't been for years. There was a debt to pay.

"Got it – we're good to go," said Sasha, sliding the drive into her small back pack.

I nodded and strode back over, absorbing back into her as easy as before. With information, as well as backups stored on Sasha's drive, including all personnel files of scientists past and present, I took control and headed out. At least with the personnel list I had the ability to cross check those who worked with Sasha, as she'd long comprised a list of her ex-work colleagues. Once I had a list to work with then I could start asking the hard questions would – or Sasha would.

* * *

 **It** was country music that played through the apartment as I sifted through the data the following morning, a cup of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, as well as two more pens in my hair. Sasha had gone out that morning on a grocery ship, so I had time to sort through the data – I began with the footage, hours upon hours, sped up and filtered through several programs noting down faces and key words. That's when I saw the footage from last night.

I sat there, frozen, a chill wriggling up and down my spine until Sasha finally stumbled in. As the door slammed shut she dumped the bags onto the dining table and started to unpack.

"Sash…" I called out tentatively. "Can you come here?"

She glanced at me from the dining table, then nodded. Silently, I pushed the laptop to her as she knelt down and clicked play. Once the clip ended I met her gaze, which dawned with a dark revelation, an uneasiness – an argument was coming. I braced myself. In my mind I knew what she was going to say, how she felt. The horrible thing was I understood her feelings. I _got_ it. But that didn't make the sick feeling twisting in my gut go away – it buried the knife deeper, more feelings compounded into a complicated, messy situation. One that was entirely _my_ fault.

"You can't be thinking what I think you're thinking," murmured Sasha, sitting back on her haunches.

I nodded slowly. "I can't sit by. This is _my_ fault. I owe them."

"You owe them _nothing_ ," hissed Sasha, standing up. "Their mistakes aren't our problem. They weren't before – they aren't now."

Anger flickered in my chest but it was stifled by a painful knowledge. Memories of Sasha's screaming grief burned to the surface. I wanted to yell at her, make her understand that we had a debt to repay – that a wrong had been done and _we_ had to fix it. That something, at the very least, had to be done. But to make her understand I had to make her forget all the agony she'd gone through, force her to forget everything she'd lost.

"But if I turn my back and he _dies_ do you think I can look my brother in the eye again? Lie to him? And if he ever found out you know he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He can't live if he knows blood has been spilled because of him, because of my search for him," I said heatedly, hating the words that tasted like poison in my mouth.

It was the truth and that was the sickest part of all.

Sasha knew it too – she knew Sam.

* * *

 **Dick** felt sick. He'd agreed to one little mission – check out a tip off that Vandal Savage was working on some top secret program. Experiments. Meta humans. Nasty enough. However, it had been a vague enough tip that the League sent the younger teams – accompanied by himself and Cyborg. Then they got cornered and they escaped – barely. At a price.

He sat outside the League's meeting room – waiting. They were arguing. They needed someone to blame; then, a plan to rescue Cyborg. But he knew that Vandal Savage had moved Cyborg several hours ago to an unknown location. They were out of leads. Out of options. He'd combed through every inch of footage, everything he could get his hands on from the brief data he'd nabbed and the bugs he'd planted.

Glancing at his watch he sighed, frustrated. An hour. What were they talking about? His failure? Oh, he knew he'd screwed up. He should've pulled back earlier – he should have tried harder to get Cyborg back but two of his team were injured. One was losing a lot of blood. He had to get them out but he could've done something – _anything._

Finally, the door cracked open and Black Canary swept out. She gestured for him to follow. Wordlessly, he did. Down the hall, out of earshot – though not from Superman if he strained his ear – Dick glanced at Black Canary, expectant. Nervous, too.

"The League doesn't blame you for what happened – there are some who are looking for someone to blame but it isn't you," she said quietly. "The tipoff – the mission. It was a set up. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Black Canary glanced out the window, to the starry expanse beyond. "You were used as a distraction. A diversion to make Vandal Savage and his security look one way, whilst another snuck in."

"Who?"

"We can't be sure. There was evidence to say Savage's servers were hacked right around the time you got in, courtesy of the data you retrieved and what information Martian Manhunter just gleamed from a technician who studied the servers after the attack." Black Canary sighed, frustrated. "Someone played us, Nightwing. Someone very clever."


	4. Chapter 4

" _They have proved exceptionally responsive to tests – however, I advise separating them. The eldest one may prove more receptive without the girl," said the young scientist, watching the two youths huddle together on the other side of the glass._

 _The man beside her nodded – once. "See to it."_

 _As he turned to leave the young scientist turned to him. "Sir – what if he proves resistant?"_

 _The man turned just once and stared, cold as ice. "Then kill the runt. The girl is desposable."_

 **Chapter 4 Liar, Liar**

Sasha had left without word – that had been an entire day ago and I hadn't seen her since. Was I surprised that she ran? I was deeply surprised that she hadn't ran off the second I told her my plan. It was a testament to her strength that she last so long. I knew she'd come back – she wouldn't leave me, leave her only chance back to Sam but she needed time. I'd give her that. While she stewed I had work to do – important work.

"Benny, Benny, Benny," I said as I walked into the back room of Benjamin Walter's club, closely escorted by two of his guards – one of which I remembered fondly beating in the alley I met Dick in. "First you send your guards after me, then you give reliable intel. You're giving a girl mixed signals."

Benny sat in the middle of the darkest booth, just like some Godfather figure – he might've been intimidating if he was old or bald or looked any part like a mobster. In truth, he was an early twenties white man with a mob of dark, curly hair and intelligent blue eyes. If you met him on the street you might mistake him for a model or a university student, the kind that protested down the street for one of the world's many woes. But, Benny had no such cares – he had an eye for money, was insanely clever and seemed to know everything about everyone.

From his seat Benny smiled like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittered with amusement. "I heard rumours about the hacker Glitch and her remarkable fight – I wanted to see if the rumours were true."

"Your friends were under the impression I used you," I said, taking a seat at his table. "That you felt slighted."

"Guards are the Neanderthals of our world," said Benny by way of explanation, regardless of the guards standing two feet away. "I heard there was a little trouble on your heist."

I stared at him. "First, a drink."

Benny snapped his fingers. From the shadows a waitress materialised, impassive and beautiful. She leant down and Benny spoke into her ear. After a moment, the waitress retreated. We waited in silence until she reappeared several minutes later, carrying a tray of two drinks. A vodka and tequila – a favourite. I took the drink, eyeing Benny with surprise, though I somewhat already suspected Benny had a file somewhere on me. Nothing personal, certainly nothing about my past but I imagined it had a great deal of information about my likes and dislikes. Favourite drinks included.

I toyed with the drink, rolling it faintly in my hand. "Do I even want to ask if it's poisoned?"

Benny grinned. "Drink. Talk."

"The hero cyborg got caught – Savage has him. I imagine he won't have long. And seeing as I have a conscience…"

"Do you want my advice?" Benny asked after he downed his drink in one go.

"No but you'll give it anyway-"

"Yes. Get rid of that conscience of yours. In our world it will only get you killed."

Benny was right, of course. I knew the hazards of dabbling in this beyond my mission for Sam. What did I know about rescues? About being a good guy, a hero? I knew how to steal, to lie, to change face and vanish without a trace. They weren't exactly the things you found on Superman's resume – maybe Batman. He struck me as that kind of person who might share some abilities. However, I wasn't anything like him. I didn't have some vendetta against villainy, nor interest to take on all of Gotham's problems and beat them into peace and order.

"Are you going to help?" I asked, half inclined to think I was wasting my time asking a criminal to help me save a hero. The very type of person who actively works _against_ his world, who defied what he was and what he did.

A small smile tugged at Benny's lips. "That depends."

"On?"

"What I get. You know how this works."

"Fifteen million."

Surprise flashed in Benny's eyes, the gears ticking over. I knew what he was thinking. Could he get more? Was I bluffing? I danced on a knife's edge. If I played it wrong I was about to make an enemy of a man I preferred as my friend, that it done wrong it could blow out to a war between us. But I had no intention to play second fiddle, to act on _his_ whim.

"I'll pay you that for the information – seven now, the rest once you deliver. However, should any information prove fake, then I'll take _back_ what I paid. All of it." I leaned back in my seat.

Benny's smile deepened, no trace of anger or irritation. "I'll look into it. Give me twenty four hours."

* * *

 **Running** through one of Gotham's largest parks I found myself trying to forget everything – to pretend for one moment I wasn't trying to free my brother, that I had no brother, that I wasn't entangled in the mess I was. It was selfish and cruel and sick and all kinds of wrong. But that didn't erase the feelings. I sprinted along the winding paths dappled with sunlight peeking through the leaves, a shifting, writhing mass of shadow and light across the pavement. I ran harder, trying to burn out the ugly thoughts, to just find a moment of clarity – a glimpse of peace. With each stride my limbs burned, screaming for rest, but I pushed on, determined to run myself ragged. I dashed past other runners, an elderly couple shuffling along, and a mother pushing a pram. The latter muttered something at me as I rushed past, an insult of some sort.

The path broke free from the trees, cutting through an enormous meadow with tables scattered about, along with picnic mats full of food and people. People were stretched out beneath the warm sun, enjoying the reprieve from the usually frigid autumn days.

I slowed a little as the path sloped up slightly, then sped up again as it ran downhill, right into another dense cluster of trees. There, the thicket with the twisting path hid people well. I kept slowing, leaping and twisting around people that seemed to appear out of nowhere, as if spectres from shadow. More people cursed at me, a couple particular as I almost bowled them over.

Finally, I started to slow as I turned another blind corner – right into a wall of muscle. Bowling them to the ground, myself included. I quickly untangled myself, pushing myself away from their limbs. Yet, as I rolled to my knees, I stared as the stranger got up and looked at me, surprise flashing through their eyes.

" _Dick?"_

He flashed a sheepish smile. "I swear I'm _not_ stalking you."

An involuntary tugged at my lips. "I believe you."

As I got to my feet I suddenly felt a little naked, wearing little more than running shorts and a crop top. Not that I was physically ashamed or anything, though years of sneaking around and sometimes little food, had left me a little thinner than most guys liked. Not much in the ways of curves, everything sharpened with hard work and running from bullets.

His gaze did flicker up and down – just for a second. So brief I almost convinced myself that it hadn't happened at all. That I'd imagined it. Then he smiled, that easy smile that made me a little breathless and restless. Part of me wanted to kiss him again, another wanted to run away. Regardless of how tired I was, of how ruined my legs felt.

"We keep bumping into each other – one of has to be stalking each other, or we're both doing it," I said, breathlessly.

He tilted his head. "What? It can't be fate?"

I snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Now, as much as I'd love to stand here and chat, if I do, I'll start cramping. So, shall we?"

Nodding, we started to walk down the path, which was so narrow that our shoulders brushed. It felt so intimate that I didn't speak until we broke out of the trees, onto another sprawling field, this one mostly empty, save for one couple enjoying brunch off the path. They sat beneath a grand old oak, oblivious to us as we strolled past.

"It's hard to believe something so pretty exists in this city," I said conversationally.

He glanced at me. "Not so hard, really."

Heat burst across my cheeks. I shoved him – gently. "Now _that_ was cheesy."

"Sorry," he said, chuckling a little. "So, you take down criminals, go for interviews in big firms but don't sit for the actual interviews, as well as run like an Olympian through busy parks. What don't you do?"

"You know about the interview?" I asked, trying to hide my unease – how much had he looked into about me?

He looked away, a little ashamed. "Sorry, I just wanted to see if your number was on file. Or some way I could find you. Guess I wanted to see you again."

"Creeps wouldn't admit that," I said. "While it _is_ creepy, you could make it up to me."

 _Dammit._ I cursed my mouth. Why in the name of all sanity had I said _that?_

He looked at me with that stupid grin on his face, eyes lit with light and joy. "How?"

"Dinner. Somewhere quiet. No five star place full of rich folk – no offence," I said, cursing every word – no doubt when Sasha returned from wherever she was at that she'd grill me for not staying away from Dick, as well as inviting _him_ to have dinner with _me._ I imagined she'd have more than a _few_ words for me, not kind words either.

For a moment he seemed to consider his options, as if he'd already drawn up a list of possibilities beforehand. How much of an impression _had_ I made on him? Did he think about me at weird moments, like I did him? It seemed like a childish train of thought, girlishly stupid but that seemed to be where my stray thoughts ended up. What was it about him that drew out this happier side of me, one free and happy? It was a dangerous thought. One I didn't want to indulge.

As he considered where he'd take me we walked on in companionable silence, each lost in thought about the other. His about a future date, mine about how much trouble I'd be in with Sasha for being drawn to the least suitable guy for me. I mean, it wasn't like I could actually _be_ his girlfriend. Because if the search for Sam took me out of the country I'd go – without hesitation, without explanation. If I had to leave without saying goodbye, if there was a chance that way of saving Sam I'd go. Was I ready to subject him to that possibility, dangle a future in front of him that wasn't possible? Logically, I knew Sasha was right. Until I saved Sam I couldn't settle, I couldn't fall in love – and I could with Dick, _so damn easily._ With his easy smile and lovely eyes it was easy to imagine I'd lose my heart to him, that when the time came to leave – and I knew it would – it would carve my heart in two.

He was a heart break waiting to happen.

"How about my place? It's got a nice view of the city."

I smiled. He was worried if I'd be upset if his place _didn't_ have a nice view but he didn't know I didn't care about that stuff. Personally, I wouldn't have cared if he lived in a dodgy little one bedroom place. Though that would've been suspicious given his fortune.

"I'd like that," I said, peering at him in the corner of my eyes as we walked. As I opened my mouth to ask 'when' my phone rang, just as Dick's rang, as well. With a sheepish smile and a mouthed apology I answered the phone. "Here. Go ahead."

"I got a lead," announced Benny.

"So soon?"

"It's been fifteen hours – anyway, I've sent everything to the usual place. I expect the payment-"

"Done. Thank you Benny."

"Always a pleasure."

I hung up and shot Dick an apologetic look, truly sorry I couldn't stick around. It was probably for the best, to be honest.

"Sorry, I don't think I can have dinner – rain check?"

He rubbed his neck. "Something came up for me, too. Another time?"

I scribbled the number to one of my phones and handed it over.

* * *

 _ **Deep**_ _breath,_ I told myself as I stood before the zeta tube, dressed in Sasha's uniform. It was weird wearing it, since Sasha was two sizes bigger than me – and a good head taller – but after careful adjusting, with the help of nanites, it fit fine. Still, it felt weird. I touched my mask, ensuring it was firmly in place. _Deep breath, you're only meeting the League – who have every reason to hate you since you're the reason their team mate is missing. Not that they know that._

I set my palm against the silvery edge, then shut my eyes – a new world materialised in my mind. An enormous room full of metal, glass panels that revealed the stars and great computerised panels displaying a wide array of data. People – no, _heroes_ – were scattered about, some striding to a large zeta tube at one end, whilst others made their way to other rooms and large hallways. _Watchtower._ The word breathed through my mind as I found the systems of the tower slip under my command. Strange. I hadn't expected it to happen so easily. It was as though a strange power awakened inside of me, a keen awareness of machine.

The view shifted – sunk lower until I was staring out as if I stood there. I felt a strange feeling brush over me – warmth. Which meant – the thought was stopped dead as one by one the heroes turned and stared. Slack-jawed and silent. Looking down I saw limbs had formed, a mirror copy of my body – I raised a hand and passed it through the other limb. A hologram.

"Interesting," I whispered, my voice crackling like a machine. I set a hand to my throat but it passed through, my own hand flickering as we?

A thunderous bang resounded before me, startling me – yet my heart remained calm. In fact, it didn't beat at all. I looked up and the Man of Steel stood before, arms crossed in what I supposed was meant to be intimidating. Truthfully, I wasn't scared at all – not being there, and all.

"Who are you and how did you get here?"

I swiped a hand through my other arm. "One, not really here – which is unexpected since all I wanted to do was hack in, send you guys coordinates and meet up. Or just help you. Without meeting. I hadn't decided. The whole hologram thing right now is about as new to me as you. Two, I believe Batman may have heard of me – he is hunting me, I believe. I'm Glitch."

"You said you're here to help."

Nodding slowly, I looked around at the small group of heroes that had gathered. On the edge I caught the gaze of a black clad hero – _Nightwing._ I recognised him from the footage at the lab. He'd led the mission. Did he blame himself, I wondered, for what had happened? Did even suspect my involvement? For a moment, I was silent. I thought about all the lies I could tell, then I thought about telling the truth.

"I am. I just happened upon this information pertaining to your friend's whereabouts."

"And how do we know you weren't the one who gave us the tip off?"

I smiled and tilted my head. "Oh, I was. Unfortunately I seemed to have overestimated your skills. I didn't predict one of you would get captured. Anyway, it put a wrinkle in everything, so here I am. Well, I best be going. Places to go, information to steal – I've just uploaded the coordinates on where to meet. If you don't show I'll go anyway."

With a bow I dissolved – and just like that I was back at the alley, my hand on the zeta tube. A wave of nausea sent me stumbling back, only to hurl behind a dumpster. Classy. I got to my feet and looked down at the vomit. Truthfully, I knew I ought to clean it up but to be honest, I didn't care. Turning on my heel I strode out to the bike and climbed on.

As I drove away I couldn't forget the way Nightwing looked at me.

As if he _knew_ me.


	5. Chapter 5

" _You keep fighting us," said the young scientist, sitting on a chair by a glass cell. Her voice was choked with frustration._

 _The lone figure inside the cell, wearing little more than tattered clothes, looked up – it was a young boy, barely a teenager. He smiled. The young scientist sighed, irritated and got to her feet. She strode to the door, fed up with the boy who wouldn't submit, with the others who treated her like she was an idiot, like she was a failure._

" _If I gave in, I'd fail my sister. What kind of brother would I be if I gave up when things got hard?" He laughed – it was a harsh, weary sound. "Sasha – isn't it?"_

 **Chapter 5 Rescue**

Sasha returned. She didn't speak, didn't offer any explanation but when I mentioned the meeting, she went to her bedroom. It was her way of saying no. I stared at her bedroom door and sighed. Beside me, the uniform was laid out, cleaned and ready to do. I knew she'd seen it and must've known I'd contacted the League in it. Her gaze had lingered for a fraction of a second before staring at me, only to turn away with a frown and leave without a word.

Left in my own frustratingly brooding silence I strode into the kitchen and splashed my face with warm water, staring into the glassy reflection of the cupboards. Was that really what I looked like? I thought as I stared at the blonde glaring back; that jagged pixie haircut, the tired eyes with dark lines beneath them and a mouth that seemed set in a scowl. What did Dick even see in me? Certainly nothing looks wise and I'd been evasive at every time we spoke – I lied, I was extremely secretive (and obvious about it), and I wasn't exactly a bubbling pool of warmth and cuddles.

Turning away, I marched back to the uniform and, once it was on, I strode out the door. Out in the hallway I lingered. I glanced back at the door, wondering if, for a moment, Sasha would appear – that we'd do this together, like we did everything.

 _We're partners, now, Max. We have to have each other's back._

But where was she at that moment when I needed her most? I didn't have friends within the League. If I went with them, if I helped them, I was still alone. Maybe they'd save me if I got into trouble, though that would only be out of their heroic honour. But I doubted they'd go out and help me. That, and I knew they wouldn't have my back – not like Sasha always did.

The door remained closed.

Sasha wasn't coming.

* * *

 **It** was a sight to behold. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman and Nightwing stood right where I'd asked them. They didn't see me yet – there was no heartbeat, no breath for Superman to hear. No fingerprints for Batman to trace. A mask to hide the eyes that Nightwing might read.

I glanced at my watch, then at my phone. Sasha hadn't called, hadn't made any attempt to contact me. It grieved me but I couldn't push her – I wouldn't.

Setting my phone in my chest pocket I slipped out from a nearby street lamp, materialising before the heroes. Wonder Woman's brow lifted slightly, yet that was about the most surprise any of them showed. It was a little disappointing. I frowned and glanced beyond them, to the container yard past a wire fence.

Gotham's largest port – a hub for export and import of international goods. Excluding the fact that at least ten percent consisted of illegal goods, primarily women desperate for a 'better life'. I had bullied Benny into dismissing that trade from his little empire, which proved more profitable for him in the long run, and easier for me.

"Here?" Nightwing asked sceptically.

"Yes, Vandal Savage has hidden your friend – _here._ Where hundreds of people work every day, where there has been _no_ visual caught on camera, nor whisper from any of the workers," I said dryly, my voice crackling mechanically. "No, he's not here."

"Then why are we here?" Batman asked gruffly, yet his eyes remained calm and focused.

"Because we're getting on a ship. Now, follow my lead and _try_ not to get seen – or caught…Or fall behind."

With a bow I turned on my heel and took off, sprinting straight at the wire fence. In a flash I dissolved mid-leap, passing through, landing in solid form and taking off again. Slipping into the cameras peppered about I kept my senses focused, tracking the guards scattered about as I darted through the maze of containers stacked a dozen high. On my heel Nightwing followed closely, whilst Batman moved swiftly overhead. Superman and Wonder Woman remained out of sight, likely flying high and beyond the sight of the cameras.

Thankfully, the night remained dark, the half-moon covered by a thick blanket of clouds. Someone was on our side. Yet for a moment I waited to hear the biting sarcasm of Sasha, chiding me not be complacent.

I reached the wharf, a large container ship slowly being edged away, towed off by several small tug boats. Men on the deck scurried about, securing the hawsers. Glancing at my watch I cursed. They were a good twenty minutes earlier.

"Nightwing, Batman – get on that ship. _Now._ "

Batman flew ahead on a grappling hook, slipping onto a stack of containers – no alarms raised, he was on. Nightwing stopped and looked at me, frowning, and one hand hovering over his grappling hook.

"How are you getting on board?"

I dissolved, slipping straight into his ear piece. "You better get moving. I'd hate to think I picked the wrong suit to catch a ride with."

With a curse he was off and for one moment I was flying through the air – then landing swiftly on one of the top containers, hunkered comfortably in the shadows. There, I broke free and appeared before him, sitting on the ground, stretched out.

" _Much_ better."

Nightwing went to speak but Superman and Wonder Woman landed, the former striding over.

"Enough games, Glitch – answers now."

I got to my feet. "This ship is on its way – according to credible sources – to a lab, hidden at an unknown location. Now the curious thing about this ship is it's not owned by Vandal Savage. It's owned by a man called Phillip Foster, a fake name of course but a man that's very real. To the public he's a reclusive CEO of several medium sized companies – all of which are profitable to the untrained eye."

"And he's being paid by Vandal Savage?" Batman offered, moving closer.

To the dark knight I nodded. "He's been a close acquaintance of the man for _years._ He's also extremely brilliant and the head researcher on Savage's main focus – alien technology. No doubt he saw the capture of your friend as a gift from the universe. Now, as _fun_ as all of this is, we best get comfortable. The captain doesn't have any records of the lab – or where it is. He sails by memory and I'd like to slip into the lab, without any attack to take the ship or said information alerting the aforementioned lab."

"What's in it for you?" Superman asked.

Behind Superman it was Batman who watched me like he was deciding if any of my words had truth. If I had the luxury of worrying about if I had the League on my side, if I cared how they viewed me, I might've straightened up, tried to look better. In another life I imagined with my abilities, along with Sam's unique talents, we might've made great heroes. Those were not, however, the cards we were dealt.

I stretched out on the ground and stared up at the sky, "A clean conscience."

* * *

 **Dick** _knew_ that the others weren't happy with the arrangement, Batman especially about being kept so far in the dark. Whilst they sat about tensely Glitch was sprawled out, staring at the stars like she didn't have a care in the world. Like they were all waiting to arrive at a hotel for a holiday. And he'd be lying if he said he _liked_ the feeling of being in the dark, of not _knowing._

"If you don't know where the ship is going how do you know its even going to the lab?" He asked, sitting down beside her.

She sat up. "A source informed me that _this_ was the ship. To be honest I know _where_ we are going – there's about a dozen or so small islands off the coast, invisible to satellite and to the outside eye, and one of them is the location for the lab. I only knew about the islands based initially on rumour, then on confirmation via an old friend who has a bit of magic." She glanced at him, her eyes hidden behind the full face doll mask. "I could have done this alone but not only are the chances of success better now, I can also rest easy that I can share the failure _or_ success on more shoulders."

"How heroic."

"I never said I was anything like that. You've read the reports. I'm sure Batman has already informed you what I am."

"A selfish, reckless thief."

She chuckled at that. "That pretty much sums me up. Now, we're approaching the islands soon, if my extrapolations are correct and I'd _love_ a nap before we get there."

Looking up he saw the distant shape of islands emerge. The others seemed to see but Glitch merely rolled over, took one look, and then stretched out again. Her eyes shut. After a moment she breathed soft and deeply, her eyes flickering beneath her eye lids.

Pensive, he sat down beside her. As the islands neared closer Glitch seemed to grow restless, her eyes moving erratically and she began to whisper something under her breath. Her hand started to twitch. The tips of her fingers started to change colour, threads of black shooting up. The black veins swirled and coiled, then shrank back. Her whispers grew louder, though seemingly nonsense – broken with cries for a person, a single name repeated so softly under her breath he couldn't make it out. Not clearly anyway.

She sat up sharply, a hand clutching her chest.

"Bad dream?"

"I don't dream."

He moved back as she stood and turned to the island, her shoulders stiff. The others gathered close, as if some mutual anticipation clutched at them all. Maybe he was imagining it but he swore he knew Cyborg was there, that they'd find him and bring him back. He only hoped this Phillip Foster guy hadn't done any damage.

"What should we expect?"

Glitch glanced back at him – _past_ Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, right at _him._ He had the uneasy feeling she was studying him from behind her mask.

She said nothing, rather turning back to look at the islands as the ship drew closer.

* * *

 **Sasha** stared at the files sprawled before her. It had been years since she saw them, longer since she had the pen in her hand that wrote them. Everything had been different then – not simple but…well…She'd known her purpose then. Then _he_ appeared, with Max clutching his side. The two of them had changed everything.

With a sigh she got to her feet and fished out her phone from her bag. She stared at it for a moment, unsure. It had been years. Would he even agree to talk, let alone meet her? The last time she'd even spoke to him she'd said some crazy things, angry words and fierce declarations. He said nothing, didn't even call out as she ran off, hand in hand with Max into the night.

With a deep breath she clicked his name on the screen and held it up to her ear, hands shaking.

"Hello, Doctor Barlow speaking."

"Chris, it's me." She held her breath, waiting for him to reply.

There was a long pause; then, a sigh. "Sash?"

"We need to talk."

"No we don't. I let you take her because you said she wasn't like her brother, that she'd never be as strong as him. We both knew if she stayed any longer she'd die. That's why I contacted the Justice League," he confessed quietly.

Her breath hitched. "You were the one who told them –"

"Listen, if I'd known Sam was faking his illness, that he was simply waiting for a time to bolt I wouldn't have called. It doesn't matter. It's in the past. Max is alive and you're free. Isn't that enough?"

 _It's enough. It's enough._ She tried to tell herself over and over that it was. But her dreams kept flashing through her head, she saw what Max was becoming – day by day. Slowly, her power was growing. Sasha didn't know what to do and she was afraid if Max got too involved with the League, if she got any ideas…If the wrong people saw how strong she'd become, how different she was from the tiny child that fled all those years ago…They'd take her back, kicking and screaming. They'd do to her what they'd done to Sam and it would break her. Bit by bit it would take pieces of her until there was nothing left but a husk. Back then, Sam had Max to look after, so he battled on. If Max went in, it'd break her. She didn't have Sam. She'd be alone and it would kill her.

"Chris, she's changing."

There was another long pause. It was followed by a clattering noise on the other end, followed by some scratching noises. She recognised it from her lab days as his writing, always sounding like he was carving stone, rather than jotting notes down.

"Meet me in an hour at our old place."

"Thank you, Chris."

Chris sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. "Don't thank me. We both knew this day was coming, didn't we?"

He hung up, leaving Sasha staring out the window at the city.

 _Yes, we did, Chris. We had time to prepare but it wasn't enough, wasn't it? It wasn't enough._

* * *

 **Nothing** had changed in the ten years. When she had been a frequent visitor, ordering the same coffee every year, she got used to the cracked vinel floor, the cheesy pictures on the wall and the same waitresses. Margaret, a fifty something woman with thick grey hair bound into an impossibly neat bun, was still there, more lines on her face but otherwise the same. She skated between the booths on the same pair of roller skates, which sported the same black scuff mark on the left ankle. As Sasha strode in and took her usual booth, right in front of her old friend, she wondered if she'd be recognised.

Margaret smiled at her but it was a practised smile, the kind for all customers, not the knowing one for the regulars or familiars. Sasha held back a frown. _So much had changed._

"How much has our friend changed?"

"So much you wouldn't believe. She made a projection of herself in the League's HQ recently, whilst maintaining a solid form somewhere far away. Her general skills at tapping into machines are off the charts and she's no longer struggling with the things she usually did with before."

Chris – small, wiry and with now cropped black hair streaked with silver – frowned, his fuzzy brow dipping. "No recent traumatic exposure?"

"No. Everything is suggesting this is more a natural development."

"Like a second puberty?"

Sasha's lips twitched. "Yes." She sobered. "There's something that Sam said to me a long time ago that's bothering me."

"What?"

It took a moment to summon the memory, though faster than she expected. The clarity of it, the sharpness of Sam's face in her mind, made her soul ache with grief. What she wouldn't do to have him in her arms again, to give her strength when her own felt like it was crumbling away. Especially with how fast Max was changing.

"Sam once told me the way we treated them was a mistake. That we didn't understand who the stronger one was. I thought it was his way of trying to scare us or deflect the attention off him but when it became clear how much he loved Max…"

"It didn't make sense," finished Chris. "Well, what if he was right? What if she was the stronger one but hadn't simply developed yet?"

"It was likely in an attempt to make us look at him more. Anyway, sometimes I wish she was a Meta human – I wish they'd both been one. It's hard to calculate and extrapolate anything when Max isn't even human. When we can't compare her growth to anything. She's unlike anything we've ever seen before and I don't know how much she'll change before she stops. The girl that may come out the other end could either be the strongest and best thing – 0r she'd be the worst threat to humanity."


	6. Chapter 6

_"Things have changed. If you continue to resist they'll kill her," said Sasha from behind the wall of glass._

 _Sam smiled from within his cell. "You and I have a very different concepts of death. If my sister dies, I imagine she'll be a force to be reckoned with – then watch those who hurt her, who hunted us like common beasts, watch them scream and beg for mercy."_

 **Chapter 6 Trapped**

It lab wreaked off chemicals – the same sharp, dizzying smell from memory. Each step a memory jolted through me, Sam's face and kind words absent. I strode ahead of the others, if only to avoid any unnecessary talk. In the silence however, my mind wandered and with each glass room we passed – empty glass _cells._ The same kind I'd called home. It was weird to be on the other side.

The empty cells didn't last.

" _Help me._ "

I froze. Superman blurred to the cell but I snapped my fingers, a burst of electricity shot across the glass. He yanked his hand back in surprise and looked at me, shock in those eyes of his. Past him I saw the tiny girl, barely a teenager, wearing little more than a hospital gown. Her hair had been shaved away, her scalp covered in blue-ish veins. Dread pooled in my gut.

"What are you doing?" Superman demanded.

Silent, I approached the glass and opened the cell, the glass wall sinking into the floor. I knelt by the girl and touched her arm. Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch. My nanites bled into her system.

"When they did give you it?"

She met my gaze, wild and wary. "A week ago."

 _Dammit._

The pieces slid into place, the picture clear as day. I helped the girl back to bed and laid her down. The nanites put the girl to sleep. At least she'd be comfortable. She wouldn't feel any pain. Not anymore.

"What are you doing? We're not leaving her here." Superman made a move forward but Batman, whom had remained oddly silent for the mission till that point, held out a hand, barring the way.

I turned around, steadying myself, barring the old feelings that reared their ugly head. There was no time for tears, no time to linger on the past or the pain that slumbered there. A mission had to be finished, a hero saved. So I faced him and squared my shoulders, then stepped out of the cell, the glass wall springing up behind me.

"I gave her a small dose of nanites – it's put to her sleep. So at least she won't feel anything when the time comes."

"When the time comes?" Superman echoed my words like they were made of poison.

I met his gaze. "She's dying. There is no cure. I gave her something so she wouldn't experience what I imagine the others did."

"The others?"

I took off down the hall, eager to be away from the dying girl and the heroes that didn't understand a damn thing. Unfortunately, I had exceptional hearing and Nightwing cleared his throat before he spoke.

"These cells weren't always empty."

* * *

 **We** passed undetected into rest of the facility. I erased any trace in the sensors and cameras of our mission, a job that left a dull ache behind one eye. A head ache was forming. No doubt it'd hurt like shit later. My hand slipped to my belt, to one of the containers. Empty. Sasha hadn't restocked pain killers. Mercifully, the spare thumb drives were there, along with other small bits of tech. Tools when my own gifts couldn't help.

Moving through a narrow metal door we appeared on a walkway, a route connecting to an office overlooking the sprawling lab below. Dozens of metal tables were spread out below, each surrounded by the familiar trolleys full of varying tools – each designed to pull someone apart piece by piece. A few scientists working late shuffled out from a small office below, two clutching cups of coffee. They made their way over to the far end of the room, right to a small corner of the room sectioned off by a few curtains.

I reached out to the camera pointed to the inside of the sectioned area, the image clearing before me.

"Your friend is there. I suggest you silence the scientists before they can raise any alarm. Take him out the way we came – I've cloaked the path, so you won't be seen." I glanced back them. "Can you at least do that?"

Nightwing stepped forward. "What will you do?"

My gaze strayed to the floor below. "There's something I need to do. I need to see something. I'll meet you at the docks. Now, _go._ "

* * *

 **As** pure energy I was free – a stream of consciousness flying through the lab's systems. I slipped through back doors, stretched out my grasp across everything I came into contact with. It was so easy. Nothing seemed to defy me, not any like the troubles I'd had when I was a young child. Yet as I swept through I kept tabs on the others, carefully masking them from watchful eyes and sensors. The rest was up to them.

I had other things to do. Benny had given me the information that Cyborg had been loaded onto a ship, then he'd supplied the carefully noted departure times. He had included that Phillip Foster was linked to the ships. Since Phillip Foster was the man I had learned several years ago responsible for The Company, the very people who had held my brother and I captive, I knew there had been a chance that Cyborg had been taken to one of his labs. It had been a hunch. One that had been supported by the same symbol scattered about the facility, one linked to operations funded by Vandal Savage – the same man who I recently learned was Foster's shadowy puppet master. Savage gave the money, organised everything and left the research and running of the labs to Foster.

Unfortunately, the second we'd stepped into the lab and I tapped into the systems I knew it wasn't the lab I'd been held out. And the automatic search for Sam didn't reveal anything. He wasn't here. Grief stabbed through me, frustration burning.

It didn't mean I was about to walk away without having a good look around.

I stretched out until I invaded every system, the whole lab under my control. Scientists in labs working hard, so easy to lock them in and set off a toxic leak. Or surge the power, blow every system, electrocute some people.

 _They deserve it,_ I thought savagely, thinking of the dying girl – how many others had been given that bloody drug to see if they were special, only to be left in writhing agony before their body gave out under the strain? How many bodies were burned, their ashes scattered – any trace of their existence erased? A surging fury burned through me. Unbound.

An explosion of energy burst through me – something tore at me, sending me hurtling. I howled as I grasped and reached for an anchor. It wasn't any good. Faster and faster I was pulled, drawn as if something was wrapped around me, dragging me down. Images sprinted past me, a mirage of smeared colour and white noise.

It was over – whatever _it_ was – before I knew it. I materialised in a white room, void of furniture and windows. The walls were padded. Closing my eyes I reached out, seeking for energy – a connection to something. Anything.

 _Where was I?_ I thought as I tried to stand but my legs buckled, sending me crumpling to the floor. Everything felt sluggish, my thoughts blurry – unfocused, scattered. I moved onto my knees and tried to crawl – one hand, then another, dragging my knees. The goal was in sight. The door. Half way across the room the door flung open.

Phillip Foster strode in.

Ice snaked my down my spine. I scrambled back to the wall as fast as my limbs allowed, as clumsy as a newborn calf.

He chuckled as the door closed behind him.

"Hello Max – you've grown up."

"G-go to h-h-hell," I said.

"Why? When you're already here?" He fished out a little black book from the inside of his jacket and flipped it open. "Now, when I placed my little nets in the computers of my labs all over the world I knew it was only a matter of time until you triggered one. Vandal Savage didn't see the point in them. He thought you were dead. Then you did that little heist on his lab and I knew you'd be coming for me. It's why I had Cyborg moved here. I knew once you'd got your friends in – yes, I know about that, and yes they've already left, abandoning you – you'd leave off on your own to get answers."

I pulled my lips into a thin line, biting back a snarl. My little show of anger made him smile, like I was still just the little girl he had tortured for _years._ The same tiny rat in his sick little maze. I turned my focus internally, to the nanites which were sluggish, dulled by whatever serum flowed through my veins.

 _Come on, get to work,_ I urged, and trying to give them a little boost – if they kicked into gear then I stood a chance to escape. Not that'd help much if the others had really left, likely on one of their ships.

 _One problem at a time._

He flipped through a couple pages on his book then stuffed it back into his pocket. With a smile he dug something else from his pocket – a small metal device. A dim memory flickered but it was full of fog, muffled like it was under water. I went to scramble away when he pressed a button on it –

 _Click._

* * *

 **Something** was wrong. Glitch hadn't reappeared in over an hour and their ride was due soon. Dick glanced over his shoulder. Cyborg was awake and talking with Superman, seeming perfectly fun. Granted, after they'd knocked out the scientists they found that he had simply put under – no serious damage done. Even Cyborg had remarked that after he was captured he wasn't treated badly. They fed him regularly and only drugged him once. Cyborg had run a quick diagnostic and said nothing was amiss with his systems.

He turned his gaze back to the facility. Had Glitch's fears been for nothing? No. He saw the cells, remembered the girl. On their way back they'd checked on her but she had passed away. Superman had carried her body out and it lay beneath his cape behind him. They'd give the girl a proper burial. He only wished they had a name to give her.

"Miss Martian is on her way – she's half an hour out," said Batman, appearing beside him.

"Glitch isn't back yet."

"We'll wait as long as we can."

"I'm going to find her-"

"No, you're not," Batman cut in. "Don't be reckless."

Nightwing rounded on his old teacher, no longer a child staring up at him. "This isn't about being reckless. She didn't have to come to us but she _did._ She didn't have to lead us directly to him and she _certainly_ didn't have to cover our exit. We owe her. Now, I'm going to make sure she's okay and then we're coming back. We're all going to leave this island – _together._ "

Before his old teacher had a chance to argue, to even stop him, Nightwing leapt off the top of the container, dropping into the yard below. Concealed in shadow he made his way through to a loading warehouse, several trucks parked there. He paused at the side of a truck, a flash of movement drawing his eye – he spun around, ready to attack but froze instead.

Standing before him was a young man, translucent, glowing softly – short blonde hair, dark eyes and a sharp face. His lips moved but no sound came out. Realising this the stranger frowned, then looked about before his gaze settling on Dick. The stranger's eyes flashed pure white for a second, then returned to normal.

" _Save her,"_ came a whispery deep voice through his ear piece.

"Glitch? Do you mean Glitch? Is she in trouble?"

The man seemed confused for a second, frustration flickering in her eyes. _"Save her._ "

Then he faded away, only to appear at the mouth of the warehouse, right where the track was backed up to. He gestured for Dick to follow. Still wary, Dick looked around, and followed after the ghost – or hologram. Frankly, he had no idea what he was following. In all likelihood he was probably being led into a trap but it seemed too convoluted for that.

The ghost led him back through the facility, floating rather than walking. Every so often he stopped and vanished for a moment – then, when Dick followed him around a corner he'd see a guard or scientist staring at a wall or at thin air. There was a blank expression on their face. Stepping around them he stepped into an elevator. The ghost gestured to the top floor. Wary, Dick pressed the button.

"So, can you talk? Aside from saying 'save her'?"

The ghost looked at him but didn't reply. It was then the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors whirring open. Silently, the ghost drifted out into a wide hallway with a large double door at the end. Regular intervals of downlights lit the way. Closer to the door the ghost turned to him.

" _Remember Kalera,"_ said the ghost, as if trying to say several more things at once – all trying to make Dick understand with two words – before he dissolved into thin air.

With a deep breath he pushed open the door, not knowing what he was walking into but he readied himself for a fight. It was an office, the kind the CEO's had. Walls of exotic paintings, fine statues perched on marble pedestals, even the rug that ran from the door to the desk at the very end – all oozed power and wealth. It was the desk that Dick's eyes fell upon, mainly the finely dressed man seated there and, standing there was Glitch. Sort of. She wore a plain black mask but her other attire remained similar. If it wasn't for the same build and the same way that she stood, he might've thought it was someone different.

 _What was going on?_ He thought, confused.

" _Save her._ " It was the ghost again but he was nowhere to be seen.

The man behind the desk looked up, his thin lips pulling into a thin smile. "So my child wasn't alone. Now, if my memory serves me correct, you are Nightbird?"

"Nightwing," corrected Dick, walking slowly forward, his gaze flickering between the man and Glitch.

 _Why hadn't she moved?_ He tried to see if she was showing any sign she was under duress, yet he knew there was every chance she was under some sort of spell or mind control.

"She's coming with me."

The man straightened up in his chair. "I don't imagine she is. She's right back where she belong."

Dick turned his focus to Glitch. "Someone told me tell you something-"

"My guards are on their way – if you leave now you and your friends will leave without any problem. You only have to turn around now and leave this one behind." The man's gaze narrowed. "Do you even know her real name? I do."

 _Dammit._ He only knew her as Glitch. Batman had never learnt anything about her real identity, about the girl _beneath_ the mask. His jaw tightened, thoughts ticking over. The ghosts words came to him but he had no idea _how_ to save her, if the other words would do anything to snap her out of whatever had its hold on her.

"I'm not leaving without her."

The man sighed. "Darling, kill him."

She was on him before he even had a chance to blink – in one moment she was at the desk, the next she appeared just above him and fell _onto him._ Sending them both tumbling to the floor. They wrestled but she was quick, driving her fists into his sides with hard, decisive blows. He rolled – sending her beneath him but, in a flash, she vanished from beneath him. Instinct roared. He quickly flipped to his feet, spinning around, just in time to dodge the arc of a sword – a short blade. As she spun around, he caught sight of the scabbard strapped to her back. He was on the defensive, ducking and weaving, narrowly escaping her fluid, sharp movements.

"Stop this, Glitch – this isn't you," he begged but, truthfully, he didn't _know_ if this was her, if this was the creature that really existed beneath the mask. So little was known about her.

In the corner of his eye he saw the ghost, standing there with a stricken expression. His eyes met Dick's and his lips moved.

" _Remember Kelara_!" The ghost said urgently.

He stepped forward as she went to stab, side-stepping and bringing his hand down onto her arm – the sword broken from her grasp. His other hand grasped her collar and drove her back into the wall; there, he pinned her but she wrestled and struggled, snarling like a feral animal. If he let go for even a second he suspected she'd try and claw his throat out.

" _Remember Kelara!"_ He hissed.

She went rigid in his arms but he kept his grip firm, waiting. Then a groan bled from her lips as she shook her head. Slowly, warily, he stepped back – just out of her reach, ready to fight if needed.

In the corner of his eye he saw the man rise. He went to stop him but Glitch was faster, appearing right behind him. She drove her fists into his back, then brought one hand down on a shoulder. Like a stone he dropped to the ground. Glitch looked up, her breaths ragged. As she strode over to him he saw her hands were shaking.

"Glitch-"

She stopped and leant in close. "You won't tell the others what happened. All they need to know is you found me. That's all." After a deep breath she pulled back. "And now I owe you my life."

"You don't-"

"I do." She stepped around him and went to the door.

"Wait – what was that before? What happened?"

Her head turned slightly to him, her hands clenched for a moment, then went slack. "Honestly?" Her voice grew quiet and uneasy. "I have no idea."


	7. Chapter 7

" _Where are we?" The tiny girl asked, staring out across the city stretched before them._

 _The boy beside her tightened his grip on her hand. "Home."_

 _But to the girl, it wasn't home and she didn't know why._

 **Chapter 7 Decisions**

A week had passed since the rescue and the League had left me alone. If Nightwing had spoken about the truth I knew they would've dug around, stuck their noses in things that didn't concern them. Their silence made me relieved – if only Sasha's continued avoidance of me would do the same.

Sitting in the dressing room of _Olympia_ , one of Benny's clubs, pinning my hair, I wondered if Sasha would attend the opening night of the show. In the past she never missed it, not even when she came down with a bad flu one time. Then, she'd remained in the back, wrapped up and passed out on one of the couches. She didn't make it through the first hour but her attendance had meant a lot. Now, without her, I was edgy – and without _any_ answers over what happened at the lab, I was lost and confused.

Frankly, I was terrified.

I'd only lost an hour but I knew there had been gaps in my memory when I was a child, times I couldn't recall. Memories that were all cloaked in the same fog that had appeared after the lab, obscuring any chance of learning what happened. I snapped my fingers, energy crackling over my fingertips. It didn't take an idiot to realise I was changing – it had been getting worse the past year, abilities developing and growing. Heck, I was racing to my brother's level and there was every chance I'd simply keep going.

Until what? When did the changes stop?

The door behind me cracked open. Molly, one of the dancers, stuck her head in, bright blue hair dangling over her pixie-like face. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

She chuckled and stepped in and brushed my hands away from my hair. Wordlessly, she finished it off, then gave a final spray of hairspray. She spun me around on my chair and examined my make up.

"Honestly, you are pathetic," she tutted, grabbing makeup wipes from the bench.

I touched her hand, stopping her. "What?"

"Did you do this yourself?" She asked, stepping back with an arch brow.

"Maybe."

"Yeah, I can tell – where is Sasha?"

My jaw clenched. "She's not coming."

Understanding flickered in her eyes. When she moved to do my make-up I didn't stop her, didn't even speak whilst she applied the make up with a steady hand. Once finished she stepped back with a self-satisfied smile.

"Better. Much better. Now, we better head out before Tash throws a tantrum," said Molly with a small, conspiratorial smile. At the door she turned back. "Oh, and I think someone left some mail for you. Do you want me to grab it?"

"No, I'll grab it. Just watch Tash. She has a habit of touching other people's mail."

Once Molly was gone I slipped on my heels and went to the door, my phone singing out. I turned around. The phone hummed across the bench. Curious, I raised my hand and snapped my fingers, trying to summon the phone to my hand. The phone continued to ring but didn't come closer.

With a curse I grabbed the phone and saw that Sasha was calling I slammed it back down, ending the call. She couldn't just _ignore_ me for over a week, unwilling to even _talk_ to me, only to _call._ No, if she wanted to talk it would have to be in person. Nothing less. I _got_ that she was upset at me helping the League but any association had ended there. It was over and she had still ignored me. So why now?

It didn't matter. I'd talk to her later.

* * *

" **I** can't believe M'gann let you come," confessed Dick as he, Conner and Kaldur walked into _Olympia._

"Neither can I," said Kaldur. "Though I suspect it has something to do with Artemis inviting her to a movie night."

With a chuckle Dick led the way inside. The club was thumping with music, the ground practically shaking with each step. Thick crowds of people ebbed and flowed in irregular patterns across the floor. Dozens of people flocked to the bar, pushing and shouting, all desperate for their drinks. Flocks of girls gathered at the dance floor, wearing barely anything at all.

They made their way to the booths, to the one cordoned off for them. A young waitress dressed in a corset and tights, with heels at the end of her long, slender legs, greeted them with a smile.

"Welcome to Olympia. My name is Ellie and I'll be your server tonight. Just tap the button in the middle of your table and I'll be over in a flash. Now, a quick note for tonight – the show begins shortly. Tips can be fed into the box on your table and will be given to the performers. The show will go for two hours with a short break and finish with a final hour. At the end we recommend enjoy the drink specials and we will be closing at approximately three am. Any questions?"

They shook their heads and made the orders for the first round of drinks. Once they sat down the music faded, the laser lights dimmed until they went black completely. A burst of white light flashed across the stage, fading swiftly into dark – this continued in rapid bursts before settling into a steady beam, the stage illuminated. The drinks arrived, delivered by Ellie, who swiftly retreated. Dick didn't miss the way she reacted whenever a booth's button was tapped, the way her ears pricked and her body snapped to it – not like she _heard_ it, rather that she _felt_ it, as if by intuition or an awareness. He wondered if she was a Meta human of some sort. Truthfully, he wouldn't be surprised. There were plenty of Meta humans living out ordinary lives, completely hidden amongst society – only a small percentage were in the League, acted as heroes independently or were, of course, 'villains'.

"You have to admit it is nice to be out without the world's fate hanging in the balance," said Dick, nursing his beer.

"I will confess I do enjoy the time to be away from the pressures of our normal life," admitted Kaldur. "And you, Conner?"

Conner held up his hands. "I'm happy to be away from study." His friend glanced at him curiously. "So, did you get the girl's number?"

At the thought of Meghan Willoughby his mind clouded. He hadn't seen her at the park in the past week and he had taken that same route at the same time every day. But she was nowhere to be seen. She was a ghost that had slipped through his fingers. He swore every time he saw her it was like she was in constant motion, like she was a flash of light in the dark – there one moment, gone the next, only an echo and feint whisper ever proved she was there at all.

Kaldur took Dick's silence and smiled. "It would seem you have met someone who is resistant to your charm."

He opened his mouth to reply but his eyes caught the singer stepping onto the stage. The air was ripped from his chest, his heart thumping in his chest, slamming against his ribs.

 _Meghan._

Beside him Conner nudged Kaldur. "I guess we know what she looks like now."

* * *

 **Like** a sixth sense I knew _he_ was there, watching me from the crowd. I couldn't see him – the lights around me too bright, the crowd cloaked too deeply in thick shadow – but I knew he was there. As I took my bow, a thin band of sweat gathered on my brow, I tried to see him with the cameras. A quick scan located him on one of the VIP booths. I straightened up and retreated backstage. Molly, having already performed, was waiting for me, a jacket drawn about her slight shoulders and two beers in her hand. She held one out.

Taking it I thanked her. "So, got any interesting VIP's tonight?"

Molly arched a brow. "Curious. You've never been interested in the Blues before."

Blues, being her choice word for anyone of wealth. Well, of _legal_ wealth. She had a much different word for Benny. Then again, for guys like Benny, she had a particular like for. The worse the better.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up. Guys like that tend to have _sophisticated_ taste," chimed in the musical voice of Tash, ready to go on stage, wearing a dress of sheer gold.

With her back turned Tash didn't see Molly stick her tongue out, glaring at her until she swept onto stage. Molly turned to me with a shudder.

"I can't _stand_ her."

"That makes both of us." Truthfully, however, she was just one more person on a long a very long list.

At the end of the show, when much of the crowd had bled away, I slipped out of the performer's lounge and went to the main bar. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking for Dick, to cleave his face from the crowd and shadow. Though only a couple dozen or so still milled about, a few small clusters on the dance floor, I didn't see him anywhere. It was a relief, since I could take it as a reminder that I was best off alone. Besides, what did I have to offer besides heart ache? What comfort could I give when my own tongue spun lies so easily, when at any notice I'd be off, racing off to another dead end. It was just as well.

I sat at the bar. Without having to speak the order Louis pushed over a tall glass with layers of sapphire blue and emerald green alcohol. The edge of the glass was rimmed with powdery purple sugar, glittering in the pulsing club light. In one go I downed it and set the glass down with a firm _thunk._

"You sing, too," chimed in Dick, appearing beside me, leaning against the bar with a smile.

Without thinking a smile tugged at my lips. "What can I say?" I turned on the stool and took in the sight of him in a fine grey shirt and jeans with an appreciative smile. "Since when do you come here?"

"I used to come here a lot a few years ago, so I became a member. Then I moved."

I tilted my head. "And now you're back."

"And now I'm back, though I don't remember you the last time I was here," he replied curiously.

"I only joined up about a year ago – I can't really remember when. Anyway, did you come alone?"

"No, I came here with two of my friends. Would you like to meet them?" He seemed nervous – and it was adorable.

I ignored Louis's warning look – he knew all about me and almost my whole story, so I knew what he was thinking. What business did someone like me have with someone like Richard Grayson? But I followed anyway – after the lab, after seeing that girl, I decided I wanted to live a little. Experience a little fantasy and pretend to live in a different world.

At the booth I met the two friends in question – one, stoic and large and the kind of imposing that would send the rational people away. The other was slight in build in comparison, with lovely dark skin and intense eyes. Both seemed serious and wary of me. I didn't miss the way the imposing one glanced between Dick and I, measuring. Uneasy, I shifted a little from foot to foot, though not sure _why._ It wasn't like I was his girlfriend – I wasn't even sleeping with him.

"This is Meghan Willoughby – Meghan, the moody one is Conner and the serious one is Kaldur. Don't mind them, though. They're actually not that bad."

I flashed him an arch look. "You say that like _you're_ the saint here." With a snort I held my hand out to his friends. "I hope you enjoyed the show. Drinks on the house until we close. Tell Louis that Puddin' said so."

 _Puddin'?_ Dick's blood cooled in a flash. As she walked away he frowned, wondering if his mind was just jumping ahead. After all, it could be just a coincidence that she had the same nickname as Joker. He couldn't exactly _ask_ her. Even if he could he didn't know the right words.

"Am I correct in hearing her call herself 'Puddin'?" Kaldur asked, sounding just as confused as Dick felt.

Conner and Kaldur left as the final few people left, the former said he had a day with M'gann tomorrow, and Kaldur explained that he was expected at Atlantis. They thanked him for the night and Conner asked to be told the reason behind Meghan's strange nickname, if Dick ever found out the reason why. Staying by the bar he waited for her, if only because he didn't really want to go and he wanted to see her again. Talk to her. Around her he had questions, a need to know her – to figure her out. She was a puzzle and his own nature compelled him to unravel her secrets.

"I was wondering if you were going to stick around," said Meghan, appearing beside him, still wearing her corset and tiny shorts – much to _his_ torture. "When I saw your friends go I got worried."

He glanced at her, studying the way _her_ eyes studied _him._ "Worried?"

With a laugh she shoved him playfully, surprising him. He hadn't really seen the light side of her, the kind that laughed and flirted with a smile. It'd be the death of him.

"Okay, so I was hoping to talk to you again – after all, we didn't get that dinner," she said, yet his expression must've been weird because she frowned and leaned back. "What?"

"You just seem different. Happy, different but…" He struggled to find the right words.

She blinked. For a moment she looked startled, like a deer in headlights. The darkness in her eyes bled away, a strange determination flickering to life, surging. Strong.

"I made up my mind about you, about how bad I was for you – about how I couldn't be the kind of girl you'd bring home to meet the family. I had this whole speech planned when I'd see you but, sitting here, I can't convince myself to say the words," she said quietly, looking away, her eyes dimming a fraction. When he didn't – _couldn't_ – reply, she glanced at him. "I can't convince myself to walk away and I should, I really should."

For a moment he was silent. The honesty in her words made him consider everything for a moment. He stood on the edge of a cliff. Beside him stood Meghan, achingly beautiful and exposed. She didn't reach for him but she was there. It was up to him to decide, to push but was he right for him to? Was it right for him to still want her, despite everything, despite what she said? There was no decision to be together, yet none to go on separate ways.

In the end he put his hand on hers. It wasn't a cry of love; rather, an acknowledgement that there was something there between them. Maybe it wasn't good – maybe it was twisted and all kinds of dangerous. But they were both trapped in each other's orbit, bound together on an unknown course.

* * *

 **Sasha** never trusted her dreams. Whilst Max was convinced Sasha could see all, like some sort of oracle, the truth was that she simply saw things when she dreamed. Glimpses of people. A side effect of her actual power. Every time she touched someone she could mimic their powers, physical attributes and even some characteristics. It made changing herself to look like them easier, especially when she could copy the way they acted. The memories bled into her dreams. In truth, much of what she knew came from her contacts. One of which was late.

She glanced up at the café's door, watching the people on the street walk by, flickering several brief looks to her watch. Time crawled on at an agonisingly slow pace, like the universe was in a deep sleep – _in and out, in and out._ She finally tore her gaze from the door and fished out her phone from her bag, waiting to check for any messages. _Nothing._

The door chimed. Her gaze flew up. It was a mother and a baby. _Not_ who she was after. She leaned back in her chair with an irritated sigh. For everyone else the world ticked on, whilst her own little world felt like it was imploding.

She closed her eyes.

"You look well, Sash," broke in a familiar feminine voice.

Sasha's eyes burst open, just as Dr Margo Veizner, once Sasha's closest friend, sat down. For a moment neither of them said another word; that is, until Sasha slid a file across the table. Veizner took it and opened it up, scanning the page as efficiently and swiftly, with that same meticulousness Sasha remembered. When she was done Veizner slid the file back over, saying nothing until Sasha slipped it into her bag and looked up.

"When our old friend called me to explain the situation I didn't believe him at first – then I realised it's you and I wasn't really that surprised in the end. You always did like to break the rules."

"I didn't," said Sasha defensively.

"Right. Well, regardless, how is she? Is she exceptional?"

Sasha nodded, struggling to hold back that old pleasure and excitement she got about her work – about the science she was involved in. "Far more than we could've ever thought – well, than I thought but you always knew, didn't you? Chris said you always thought she was the stronger one of the two."

"I suspected," conceded Veizner. "Truthfully, though? Everything we ever knew about them was always speculation. We learnt so much about them, about their physiology but, in the end, how much did we really know _about_ them?"


	8. Chapter 8

" _Happy birthday, Sasha," said Sam, as she entered his cell – a new room, stark white and furnished plainly._

 _She paused half way across the room, frowning. "How?"_

 _He smiled conspiratorially. "I have my secrets."_

 _Though she smiled, inside she couldn't forget his words._

 **Chapter 8 Mortal**

 _You are hereby invited to attend the charity ball held at the Wayne Mansion._

My hands held the letter, shaking. Me? A ball? It had to be Dick's idea but I'd _told_ him I wasn't the girl people took to meet the family, the _girlfriend_ material. He'd invited me anyway. Irritated, I was half tempted to tear the letter into shreds. There was _no_ way I could go. Especially as a girl that didn't even exist. My anger dimmed. There was no way he could really understand why it wasn't good for us to go down the path of charity balls and family meetings. It was weird enough being introduced to his friends – as _what?_ Girlfriend?

I set it down, smoothing down my shirt – an effort to distract myself. There was cleaning to do. Since Sasha hadn't around much lately, certainly not at all whilst I'd been back. I left the letter on the dining table and set off to work. It took a couple hours to vacuum, set the washing, then finished up with the garbage and I set a stew onto boil. By then the dusk beckoned, the city plunging into night. With the cold air seeping in I flicked on the heater, then shut all the windows. It'd mean the apartment would be stuffy by morning, and the bad smell that always seemed to kick up every time we used the heater.

Unfortunately when I slumped onto the couch the letter was still there. Staring at me. Despite my reservations I hadn't gotten up either to call Dick, to personally explain that I couldn't go. A small part of me, hunkered at the edge of my mind, wanted to go – to just _be_ someone other than Meghan or any of the other people I'd been over the years. Maybe for a night I could be Max – whoever she was anymore.

"You always clean when you're in a mood," observed Sasha, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

I sat up sharply as Sasha walked in slowly, warily regarding me with her dark eyes. She didn't sit but she did drop her bag by the chair. For a long time neither of us spoke, the air poignant with so many unspoken words and angry insults.

"I haven't spoken to the League. I don't want their help," I said quietly.

"I know." Sasha let out a pent up breath.

My brow furrowed. "You know? Then why?"

"Because I was angry!" Sasha snapped; she paused, seemingly surprised by her own outburst. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm. "I was angry you helped them, angry that I understood, angry that I was angry."

When her eyes opened and met mine, there were angry tears in her eyes, torment burning there. I was on my feet before I knew it, yanking her into my arms. Though I was still _angry_ she ignored me, that she was angry enough to punish me for doing the right thing. I stepped back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Well, now that nonsense is over, we best continue our search for Sam," I said, determined.

Her gaze flickered beyond me, right to the letter. "Are you going?"

* * *

 _ **Are** you going? _ Standing at the edge of the ballroom, all I wanted to do was run – turn on my heel, kick the ridiculous shoes off and go drink at _Olympia._ My hand tugged and smoothed my dress, the long silk dress a little tight around my waist. Which meant little eating, unless I wanted to tear the seam.

I looked about for Dick but only saw crowds of people I didn't know, all dressed in gowns and suits worth more than my apartment. Women looked my way, eyes narrowing at the sight of the one non-designer dress, as if their highly refined noses could smell the cheap dress. My fingers twitched – one snap of my fingers I could trigger the alarms, send them all running scared. It'd be so _easy._

Taking a deep breath I set off in search, winding through the dignitaries and diplomats, my nose tingling with their perfumes. Half way across the room, no Dick in sight, I took a flute of glittering champagne from a passing waitress. Drink in hand I strode over to the edge of the room, where a long table of desserts beckoned in a colourful array. I downed the glass quickly and set it aside, looking around for a moment before I snuck in an éclair hungrily. There was, perhaps, little more than that I could eat.

Then I saw him.

Across the room, standing by his adopted father's side, dressed impeccably and laughing like he belonged. My chest ached. _What I was I doing here?_ There was no way I belonged. But as Sasha said I had to lay low on the Glitch front, just for a little while. The information about what happened on the island had made her nervous. She said I needed to just be _me_ for a while, give time for Foster's search to die down a little. Meanwhile, I left several nets out on the web for information, which was about all I could do. Whilst that was on I had decided to adhere to advice, if only to stop me from thinking too much about Sam and the search…and the strange box that had left me with another missing hour.

His gaze broke from conversation, straight to me.

I wasn't sure who moved first – my feet had already had carried me halfway when I realised where I stood, right before him. He stood just in front of me, silent for a moment. Surprise and relief in his eyes. He didn't expect me to come but seemed pleased I'd come anyway.

"Hi-"We both said at the same time.

"You came," he said quietly, his mouth curling into a smile.

 _Damn._

"Can't ignore the chance to drink it up with the rich and famous, now can I? That, and I know a friend of mine is here and I couldn't leave him alone to the sharks."

"That would be cruel," he confessed. "So, would you dance with him?"

I looped my arm through his. "I don't dance."

"Then it sounds like he has a lot of work ahead of him."

* * *

 **Bruce** watched Dick and the new girl walk through the crowd, talking, and their heads bent towards each other. The girl was the same height, lean and was not the usual kind of girl Dick spent time with. She was not a model but she was striking. Yet there was something strange about her, something that niggled at his mind. Was it the way her gaze swept over the crowd, pausing at the doors – looking for escape routes?

He wanted to shake his head, dismiss the thoughts but they wouldn't go away. Turning to his side, where Alfred waited silently, he asked:

"Has Dick spoken to you about a new girlfriend?"

Alfred glanced at him, his brow lifting slightly. "I have not heard anything, Master Bruce. Shall I inquire as to her character?"

"No, I'll do it." Bruce strode through the crowd, passing several business men who tried to call him over, and approached Dick and the girl.

Dick saw him, stiffened slightly, and then smiled – a practised smile, the kind Bruce had mastered years ago. "Bruce."

"Dick, who is this beautiful woman here?"

It wasn't Dick who spoke; rather, it was the girl who stepped forward, breaking free of Dick's protective embrace, and held out her hand. "Meghan Willoughby."

 _Liar,_ whispered Bruce's inner thoughts. Whether it was the way she said her name, which sounded so _practised,_ or the smile that she gave him. Something about her wasn't as it seemed.

"And what do you do Miss Willoughby?" Bruce asked, whilst Dick, from behind Meghan, stared at him warningly.

She blushed. "I'm a performer. Nothing fancy, I'm afraid. I sing a few clubs around town."

"There is great skill in performing and singing. Personally I find it admirable," said Bruce with his own practised smile. "It takes great courage."

"Mr Wayne!" A woman called out, striding towards him.

He glanced at her, wondering who she was. It took a moment for him to remember. The Mayor's wife, Margaret – or was it Mary? A man strode beside her, _not_ her husband. The blood in Bruce Wayne's froze solid, though he kept his smile there – perfect, controlled, easy-going. Inside, however, his mind had spun into overdrive. Beside him Dick stiffened slightly and, to Bruce's slight confusion, even his date seemed a little pale. She wore an impassive mask, a slight smile there, but there was something flickering in her eyes. Fear?

Margaret – or Mary – stopped before them, one arm looped through her companion's arm.

"See, Mr Savage, I _told_ you the man himself would be in attendance," gushed the mayor's wife. She beamed at them all, as if she hadn't brought over a mass murdering immortal psychopath. "Mr Wayne, might I introduce Vandal Savage - Mr Savage has recently come to Gotham and is looking for business partners. I told him you were the CEO of the best company in the city and simply _had_ to talk."

Savage laughed and held out his hand to Bruce. "The game is up, I'm afraid. I was going to have my secretary call ahead, arrange a meeting."

Bruce laughed heartily. "It's fine. I'm sure we can manage. Might I introduce my son, Richard, and his date, Meghan Willoughby?"

Just as polished Dick shook Savage's hand. When the time came for Meghan to shake his hand she did, smiling pleasantly. Yet her grip on him seemed to linger for a moment, her eyes a little too focused and sharp. She pulled her hand back and moved swiftly back to Dick's side, angling herself so that it was like she was ready to protect him. To the outside world it was seen as an intimate gesture, the way she stood to Dick but to him, it was something else.

* * *

 **In** his arms I should've felt safe. I should've been relaxed and carefree. Honestly, I would've been, if I didn't have in the back of my mind the uneasy truth that, from somewhere in the room, was Vandal Savage. I had no idea if he recognised me. It had been ten years since I was in the experiment and I had changed quite a bit in that time. Yet I had no idea if it was enough. I'd looked at him as I shook his hand, trying to see if there was any flickering of recognition.

"You're distracted," murmured Dick as we danced slowly in the middle of the room.

I rested my hand on his shoulder, hoping to hide my face from his scrutiny. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You've been weird since you met Vandal Savage," he persisted quietly.

"It's nothing. Just forget it," I said, a harder edge to my voice than I intended.

Wordlessly he led me off the dance floor and through a double set of doors, out onto an empty balcony. I broke away as he turned and closed the doors. When he faced me I was relieved we were alone. If he'd persisted inside I was worried I'd snap at him, which was how on edge I'd been left after meeting Savage.

"So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I insisted, digging my heels in.

He sighed, exasperated, eyes fluttering shut. I felt guilty but how could I explain truth? Explain that Savage was part of the group that kept me prisoner years, their personal lab rat? The words died on my lips, trapped by fear and instinct. I couldn't look at him, couldn't see _the_ look in his eyes. Though a twisted part of me wished he'd hate the way I kept him at distance, and that he'd cut and run. In the corner of my gaze I saw his eyes open, watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

"Why you won't-"

"He's tortured people I know – _okay?_ " I bit out. Not exactly a lie, as close to the truth as I could allow.

I met his surprised expression. "What?"

"He's known on the streets for running labs where Meta's are treated like lab rats, cut open and tested. I know some people that escaped from them. So, yeah, it's hard to look at him and smile and pretend like I know that his hands aren't _soaked_ in blood," I said shakily, distant images of those _sick_ experiences trickling through the cracks of carefully constructed walls. "I didn't _want_ to say anything because you've got this view of me, like I'm some damaged little bird that can be saved."

"Meg-"

"I _can't_ be saved," I spat, making a beeline for the door when his hand snapped around my wrist, stopping me.

He leaned in close. "You're not some damaged little bird. You're a falcon, a bird of prey. And I believe you."

My gaze snapped to his, piercing, studying. I couldn't speak a damn word.

* * *

 **The** next night after the Olympia closed I said my goodbyes to everyone, ready for bed and a cup of tea. Three am beckoned Gotham with a quiet air, the streets eerily sleepy. Low mist clung like a second skin across the road, the chill biting. I slipped out of the club, my mind a world away.

My shoes clicked against the pavement, a rhythmic song that drowned out conscious thought. I let a low, nonsensical hum fill the air, a sweet melody, accompanying by the clicking heels. Walking down that street, with the self-made music, it was easy to think for a moment I was someone else – just another performer leaving work, eager bed, _not_ eager for a stack of bills. I could pretend alone on that street that I was a plain old human, with mortal worries and debts.

Lost in my own thoughts I didn't notice the figure that emerged from an alley ahead until I was only a few metres away. I stopped, my heart leaping in surprise. It was a young man, barely twenty or so – a street kid, by the looks of his tattered clothes and sickly complexion. He stared at me, his gaze strangely glassy – like he didn't really see me. I glanced behind me but there was no one behind me. Looking back to him I smiled warmly.

"Hey – is everything okay?"

His eyes snapped into focus, tears in his eyes, and he took one step to me.

"Please forgive me. I can't wait any longer."

"Wha-"

 _Bang!_

The world froze. I barely registered the smoking gun, aimed at _me,_ dimly aware of the sharp feeling in my gut. My hand fell to it, felt the warm, sticky liquid ooze through my fingers. I looked down and paled. _Blood._

Dizziness rushed over me, sending me staggering back. I looked up just as he aimed the gun, _at himself,_ right at his head. Then he pulled the trigger. He hadn't even hit the ground before I spun around and ran, the world growing dark around me, and a single thought pulsing in my mind.

 _Run._


	9. Chapter 9

" _His powers were getting stronger – developing at a staggering right. Now you're telling me his nanites are failing him?" Phillip Foster snarled, clearing his desk with one sweep of his bear-like hands._

 _Sasha stood her ground, then looked down at her files. "His blood results do indicate a seventy percent drop in efficiency in his working nanites, since approximately half are currently inert."_

 _Foster looked up at her, eyes blazing. "What does it mean?"_

 _She drew a deep breath, trying to sound like she wasn't inches from falling apart. "He's dying."_

 **Chapter 9 Decline**

Molly had no idea what she was doing. Well, she did but she had a feeling she was way out of her depth. Guys with tempers she could deal with, rowdy customers at the club were a walk in the park. Even the occasional mugger. Yet in the glassy elevator at Wayne Tech, the city stretched out before her in some glittering alien world, she felt uneasy. What if she had misread what she saw between Meghan and Richard Grayson? What if it was nothing more than some brief, fleeting affair, no emotions involved?

The elevator stopped with an audible _ding!_ The doors parted, revealing a dizzyingly white office with glass offices. Mollyy strode ahead to the main desk, and cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of the frazzled looking secretary.

"Yes?"

"I'm Molly Benson – I need to see Mr Grayson. It's about –"She paused for a moment. "Listen, it's urgent. Can you please tell him that Meg is hurt. He'll know what I'm talking about."

She stared at Mary, blank. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Didn't you hear me? She's-"

Down the hall Molly caught sight of Dick – she was striding towards him, ignoring the protests of the secretary. Flashes of Meg, of the blood and the doctors, of her friend clinging to life – barely.

"Dick Grayson!" She called out.

He stopped and looked up at her, confused and surprised. He raised a hand, about to stop her, send her away.

"I'm sorry you'll have-"

"It's Meg. She's been shot."

The blood drained from his face. Focus burst through his eyes. He strode to her, dismissing the secretary with a dismissive flick of the hand, and followed her out. In the elevator he turned to her, his gaze piercing.

"I've never met you before."

"I'm Molly. I work at the _Olympia_ with Meg."

The elevator reached the bottom, the doors sliding open. He was out the door, striding fiercely across the lobby, leaving Molly scurrying after him. She followed him outside, to the BMW parked just in front of the building.

"Molly!" She turned to see Louis striding towards her. He stopped and glanced at Dick.

"I'm going with him. Meet you at the hospital." As he turned to leave she stepped forward. "Has Sasha got there yet?"

Louis shook his head. "She's on her way. You should get there well before her though."

Nodding, she didn't wait for her friend to vanish from view. She climbed into the front seat and buckled herself in, the car surging out of the car park before she knew what was happening. The car weaved through the traffic, flying long, barely staying under the speed limit. She tried to feel better knowing she was on her way to Meg, that she'd gotten Dick as well. Yet one glance at her phone did little to dispel her unease. The doctors had said they'd contact her when Meg got out of surgery – _if_ she got out of surgery. The surgeon had been clear on _that._ She'd lost a lot of blood, they told Molly, that Meg may not survive.

"What happened?" Dick asked, his voice thick with turbulent emotion.

She glanced at him. "I don't know. Not really. All I know is she left the club a little after three am, then barely twenty minutes later she was staggering into the club, shot. She'll be okay, though. Meg is tougher than most."

He laughed harshly. "Yeah, I've realised that. She's too stubborn to die."

Molly didn't miss the doubt and worry in his voice.

* * *

 **Gotham** General smelt just like every other hospital – sterile, an undertone of bleach. Dick hated it. Hospitals reminded me of nothing good, times spent sitting by the beds of friends hurt in fights. He'd watched friends lose their ability to walk, limbs, their _life._ As he strode down the bustling hallways his heart was his throat, keeping him silent, silencing all the questions he had. Molly was ahead of him, seeming to know exactly where she was going. When she stopped suddenly at a nurse's desk he caught up.

"Has Meghan Willoughby come out of surgery yet?" Molly asked, drumming her fingers on the desk – a nervous act.

The nurse shook her head. "Miss Willoughby is still in surgery, I'm afraid. If you'll take a seat in the waiting room we'll let you know when she's available for visits."

Molly nodded and led Dick to a nearby waiting room. Once he sat she looked up at him, curious.

"I wasn't sure how close you and Meg were but I thought if you were like _that_ with her, then you had a right to decide if you wanted to be here," she confessed quietly.

"Thanks – so, do the police know anything?"

"They asked me and a few others at the club some questions but they didn't tell us anything. One of them said they'd stop by when Meg was available to answer some questions." Molly rubbed her neck tiredly. "She's been in and out of surgery since she got here. It's her second surgery now."

"It's bad, isn't it?" He asked quietly.

After a moment Molly nodded quietly, staring at the ground, scratching at the inside of her wrist. "I've seen people get shot before – growing up Gotham you see lots of stuff like that. I mean, it's been better since Batman and his pals got here but it was still scary as shit. There was so much _blood_."

It seemed she'd given up from her stance in the car on telling him Meg would be okay. Arriving in the hospital had left her quiet and nervous again. He shared the feeling.

Half an hour passed. Molly got up, saying she was off to get a coffee and if he wanted one. He said no. It'd make his jittery nerves worse. Once she was gone he was alone, wondering if he should call someone. Bruce, maybe. If Meg needed the best surgeons, he'd find them – he'd call in every favour owed to him if he had to. But he wasn't losing her. He couldn't lose her, not when he was slowly beginning to understand to her, the layers slowly peeling away. Besides, a world without her seemed darker, as if her presence was a light – like a second sun.

As he rubbed his neck, trying to ease a knot that had knitted up in his shoulder blade, a woman strode into the waiting room. He looked up, just as she staring at him, studying. Those dark brown, almost black eyes, narrowed slightly. The short blonde hair, pinned from her face, made her scrutinising expression seem harsher, her face cold.

"So you're _him_ – Richard Grayson, isn't it?"

He nodded. "And you?"

"Sasha. Meg's older sister."

 _Roommate. Sister._ From what snippets he'd gleamed from Meg he'd learnt that she was extremely close to Sasha.

Sasha sat down beside him. Shortly after Molly returned, accompanied by the man he'd seen talking to her outside Wayne Tech. He also recognise him from _Olympia_ as the bartender. Louis, he recalled. Molly paused for a fraction of a second when she saw Sasha, meeting the older woman's sharp gaze, before sitting down, Louis right beside her. No one else came, the waiting room thick with silence, a mutual worry for Meg. Still, Dick felt like an outcast, like he didn't really have a right to be there. Sasha was her sister, and the other two were close friends. What was he? Boyfriend? He wasn't even sure he was _that._ Meg went from ice queen to raging storm in a snap.

A doctor suddenly appeared, a face mask down around his neck, looking utterly exhausted. Sasha jumped to her feet and followed him down the hall, their muffled voices bleeding into the waiting room. Dick strained his ear, trying to hear what was being said, his heart slamming against his ribs. After a moment they passed the waiting room, heading the other way. Dick got to his feet to follow when the doctor reappeared, _without_ Sasha.

"Miss Willoughby has asked for a private moment with her sister. She said the gentlemen Mr Grayson could come in after."

"Is she okay?" Dick asked.

The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Surgery went well but she's not out of the woods yet. She suffered extensive internal bleeding and lost a lot blood. I won't deny it's a miracle she's survived this long. Now, I have to go. Excuse me."

* * *

 **Sasha's** heart had dropped like a stone when she got the call that Max had been shot, that she was in a critical condition. It was something Sasha was totally unprepared for. Staring down at Max, hooked up to a myriad of familiar machines, she could only wonder why Max's nanites hadn't saved her.

Max's eyes flickered open. After a moment they fell on Sasha. "Sash?"

Sasha sat down beside her, taking her hand, which was cold to the touch. Max squeezed back weakly, her grip feeble.

"Hey – I never said you could go get yourself shot. What the hell?" Sasha said, no heat in her voice.

The corner of Max's lips twitched. "Don't sound so concerned. I might think you care."

"You're my ticket to Sam. You're not allowed to die on me," hissed Sasha.

"Glad to know."

Sasha's gaze softened. "You're not healing. We'll need to run some tests when we get back."

Max looked away for a moment, biting her lip. A lead weight sunk in Sasha's gut. She _knew_ that look. After years by Max's side she recognised every expression, knew when Max was lying, when she was telling the truth – she knew how Max was feeling just by looking at her.

"Sash. There's something else," said Max, her hoarse voice a frightened whisper.

"What?"

Max looked back at her. "It's not just my nanites. My powers are weaker. I can't even tap into the security systems at the moment."

"It could be related to the blood loss, Max," said Sasha, though she knew from experience that Max was, in all likelihood, going through the same change Sam went through – accelerated change, followed swiftly by a drastic reduction in nanites operability and periods of extreme weakness. Sasha didn't want to think about it as a possibility, though she knew it was, because she knew _exactly_ where _that_ ended. What it meant for Max. Not interested in worrying her friend she held her tongue.

Max stared at her, weighing Sasha's words carefully. After a pause she exhaled shakily, nodding. It was clear Max wasn't sure whether or not to believe her. That was fine. It gave Sasha time to figure out what was happening and save her.

"Dick is here. He wants to see you," said Sasha quietly.

Just like that Max's eyes lit up a little. Without another word Sasha slipped out.

* * *

 **Dick** was out of words when he stepped into the hospital room, followed closely by Sasha. He strode over to the side of the bed and sat down. As much as he wanted to take her hand he held back, a little unsure. Meghan looked at him, guarded for a moment, and then shot a look behind him. In the corner of his eye Sasha nodded and went out, leaving him alone with Meghan. Distracted, he was surprised when he felt Meghan's fingers touch his hand. Looking down, he relaxed his hand and she threaded her fingers through his.

"Hey." Her voice was hoarse, weak and frail, yet she smiled at him.

"Hey." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was shot," she said, her lips quirking into a smile. His expression must've looked horrified because she squeezed his hand. "Dick, I'm fine. The surgery went great."

"You almost died. What _happened_ Meg?"

Her gaze clouded over; in a blink of an eye she seemed to pull away from him. "I don't know. He just came out of nowhere, said he was sorry and then he-"Her voice cut off. She met his gaze, a fire stirring. "It doesn't matter. He's dead now. He shot himself."

"Meg-"

"I've seen people die before, Dick. It was a little _unsettling_ but I'm not broken over it."

He found a smile tugging at his lips. "I doubt you would be. You can overcome anything."

She seemed to warm a little, her gaze softening. "I am pretty tough, aren't I?"

There was a knock behind him. Sasha stuck her head in.

"Are the others okay to come in?"

Meghan nodded. Before Sasha left she looked straight at them, straight at the way Meghan held his hand. She turned to leave when Meghan suddenly jolted. Dick's eyes snapped back as Meghan started to shake, her eyes rolling back in her head. The computers started to wail, lights flashing. Doctors burst into the room, pushing him out of the way. Sasha dragged him out in the hallway – a moment the doctors were pushing Meghan's bed out, her body eerily still on the bed.

" _Meghan!"_ He howled as she vanished around the corner.

* * *

 **Back** in the waiting room Sasha watched as Dick paced back and forth, Molly crying into Louis's shoulder. She wanted to cry too but she couldn't. For Max she had to be strong. The sight of Max in that fit rushed back to her. She slammed her gaze shut, trying to force it away. Yet every time she did it came back – harder, more potent with every appearance. She opened her eyes, surrendering to the roar in her ears, the void appearing before her. She couldn't lose Max, not after she'd lost Sam, too.

After several hours the same doctor reappeared. Sasha was on her feet, her heart pounding. "How is she?"

"She suffered a bleed on the brain. We've stabilized her for now but we can't bring her down, not for a little bit longer yet. For now, we can only permit family to stay."

Sasha glanced at Dick, stricken. She drew a deep breath. "He can stay." Turning to Molly and Louis. "We'll stay here. You guys go back, get some rest. I'll call you if anything changes."

Molly nodded shakily but it took Louis to take her away, gingerly leading her by her elbow. When they were gone Sasha looked to Dick, who met her with an appreciative nod.

It was going to be a long wait.


	10. Chapter 10

" _Did you do something with your hair?" Sam asked with that boyish smile that drove Sasha mad._

 _She glanced up from the folder in her arms, to Sam sitting in the chair opposite her. With a deep breath she looked back down at the series of questions written before her, trying to keep focused. It wasn't easy with the way he looked at her._

" _So, subject zero five, can you explain for the record where you are from?"_

 _Meeting her gaze he shook his head, his eyes glittering with challenge and amusement. "No." After a pause he sobered a little. "It looks nice. You look beautiful."_

 **Chapter 10 Metamorphous**

It was another two days before Meghan was stable enough to talk and be seen. She'd had two more fits but, in the past twenty four hours, seemed to be growing stronger. The doctors said she was bouncing back, her body starting to recover. They told Sasha and him that she was coming out of the worst of it, yet they still had to be vigilant. It was enough to make Dick relax a little.

Bruce had called several times but Dick ignored the first few. At the seventh, he excused himself from Meghan's room and answered it. "Grayson."

"Dick. Where are you?"

"Gotham General. Meghan's in hospital."

There was a pause; then: "Does J'onn know?"

"Wrong Meg. The girl I introduced you to at the charity ball. She got shot a couple days ago, a street mugging gone wrong. I'm sorry I haven't answered my phone. It's been touch and go the past forty eight hours." He drew a deep breath. "Don't suppose you can excuse me from work for a week, just until she's a bit stronger."

"I'll make the calls. Does she require a specialist?"

"She seems to be out of the worst of it. I'll call if anything changes. Thanks for the offer, Bruce. It means a lot. Really."

"I have a meeting with the others tonight. I'll say you're busy for a moment," said Bruce stiffly. "We'll talk later."

He went back into the room and found Meghan sitting up, alert. She flashed him a smile, her face more animated than it had been in days. Even some of the lines had been removed from her and she was eating on her own, the first time since she was shot. It was a big change, yet he remembered how it didn't seem fast enough for Sasha, every success not enough. It was like she was expecting _more._

The sister in question had ducked out for a few hours, saying she had to attend to something.

"You're looking good," he said, sitting down.

She pushed back the breakfast tray, having finished breakfast. "I feel better. The police came by before."

His brow rose. "What did they want?"

"Just a couple questions. I'm not sure why since I told them everything. They said it's routine, so I'm sure it's nothing – anyway, whose been calling you?"

"Sorry if I woke you this morning. Bruce tends to-"

She laughed, silencing him. "I get it. Sasha is just the same."

The thought of Sasha and Bruce being the same made him smile. They couldn't be any more different if they tried but he wasn't about to explain _that_ to Meghan. His thoughts darkened. For all times he wanted to push her to open up he held back, trying to respect her choices – since he had his own secrets to keep, some of which weren't up to him.

"Have the doctors said how long they think you'll stay for?" He asked, trying to get Bruce out of his head.

She frowned. "They seem to think another few days if I stay good but, honestly, I feel _fine_. I'm okay to go home now."

He didn't want to add she'd almost _died_ two days ago, that he'd almost watched her die right in front of him when she had that fit. As much as he wanted to get her to relax, to give herself time to heal, he suspected she'd fight _that_ with every fibre of her body. Someone like Meghan didn't like looking or feeling weak, and that much he knew, and she very much liked being in control.

He couldn't fault her for that when he was just the same.

* * *

 **It** was a miracle that Sasha had Veizner and Chris in the same room. They'd both w0rked extremely hard in distancing themselves from the program, as well as any old associates. Well, Veizner had been a junior researcher working directly with all the blood work and genetics. Chris had always been part of the biological team, the ones that watched how Sam and Max's bodies adapted and worked in different situations. Still, none of them had ever had the close work that Sasha had with Sam and Max.

At her apartment, which she was the one place she was happy wasn't bugged, she brewed up a large pot of tea. She glanced back into the living room, watching as Chris and Veizner caught up. Still, even she could feel how awkward it all was – it was hard enough to revisit that part of their lives but to catch up with other people from that place, try and talk like it was all times? It was painful and full of a lot of unspoken things – feelings that had been buried for _years_ under denial and self-loathing, then tied off with a bow of delusion. As she strode back in with the tray, the pot steaming against the three tea cups, Cshe was ready to talk.

"I heard what happened," said Chris, looking at her with apologetic eyes. "Still in hospital?"

Surprise flashed across Veizner's face. "She's _still_ in hospital? Are her nanites failing?"

Sasha poured the tea. "I had a look at her blood work from the hospital-"

"Oh _no_ ," moaned Veizner. "They would've seen the results…"

"That's just _it_. Someone had amended the results – well, they must have, since even the inert machines would've shown up in her results. The worst part is I don't know _who_."

Chris took his cup and was quiet for a moment. "What if it's another like her? We always assumed that Sam and Max were the last two, that they were the only ones. For all the nets we put out they were the only ones we found for years and it seemed unlikely that someone like them would hide _away_ from technology, since that's how they can best move around."

"It _could_ be possible," conceded Veizner, somewhat reluctantly. "But why _now?_ "

"Could be a number of reasons. Maybe they were waiting for her to change – it could be a metamorphic stage for them, a rite of passage. Who knows. It's all hypothetical at this point," said Chris. He looked to Sasha, curiously. "How are you going to find out who changed the files?"

"I don't know. I don't like that there is someone out there that knows so much about Max, and that they haven't moved until now. Anyway, I wanted you both here because I have a proposition."

* * *

 **W** hen I was finally allowed out of the hospital, I made Dick drive me to the Olympia. I didn't really want to have him _know_ where I lived. Doing that crossed a line I wasn't willing to have crossed. The apartment was the last place in the world I didn't need to _hide_ who I was, where I could chat freely with Sasha, without worrying about what I said. In that apartment I was Max, yet beyond that door, I was Meghan Willoughby. Two lives, two _very_ different people, living _worlds_ apart.

Dick waited at the bar whilst I slipped in the back, grabbing up some spare clothes and my second phone. I dialled Sasha's second phone, the one that only I called. After two rings she answered, seeming relieved that I was strong enough to call and expressed that she was incredibly sorry she couldn't get me from the hospital.

"Are you able to grab me from _Olympia?_ "

"Yeah, give me an hour. I'll be there." She said something to someone else on the other end, her voice muffled and warbled. Then she sighed, her breaths sounding close to the phone. "Are you alone?"

I closed my eyes and sent out a cursory probe, which detected no bugs or listening devices. Unfortunately, it only seemed to stretch out twenty or so metres before it fizzled out. I didn't mention _that_ little snippet. "Yeah."

"I'd like to run some tests on your nanites – we can't ignore what happened and I'd like to get onto that before we proceeded. I know we said we'd wait for the heat to die down before we looked for Sam but if you're not stable, if you're…" Her voice trailed off, uneasy. "When you continue your search I'd prefer you at full fighting strength, especially when you hit trouble in the future. I'd like to know you'd be able to at least survive a bullet without almost dying."

A flash of the attack shot through me. I shoved it away angrily, hated how I wasn't _strong_ enough to survive it. Once, I'd be able to leap off buildings, climb for _hours,_ swim without breathing – I'd been unstoppable. The thought of being almost _killed_ by a _bullet,_ by one damn shot, made me angry. It made me feel like I was failing Sam, that I couldn't repay the freedom he gave me.

"I'll see you in an hour," I said quietly. "By Sash."

"By Max."

I went back out to the bar, where Dick was chatting animatedly to Louis. The normally stoic bartender, who had a complete other personality whom was bubbly for customers, tended to be off-standish to people he didn't know. Rich people, in particular. But he smiled at Dick like he really _did_ like him, like Dick was one of the family at _Olympia._ The sight sent a flutter through my chest, which I quickly quashed. When Dick glanced up a soft smile touched his lips, the kind that sent _that_ feeling rushing through me again. _Oh no you don't,_ I thought as I walked over, still a little weak, an involuntary smile tugging at _my_ lips. Like I was some giddy kid.

"Hey."

I sat down. "Hey. I just got off the phone with Sasha. She's coming here, so I'll go back to the apartment with her."

"Are you sure? I could take you there, save her the trouble," he said, reaching for my hand resting on the bar.

It took all my strength not to yank my hand away, to do what I did best and hide. With a deep breath I squeezed his hand, hoping that the gesture somehow made all the lies somehow smaller, like they could be forgotten.

"Call me if you need anything – I'll be wherever you need in a flash."

He leaned in and kissed me, a small affectionate kiss. As he pulled back I snorted and grabbed his face, drawing him back for a proper kiss. Happily, he deepened it, holding my waist. Breathless, we pulled back. I tapped his cheek.

"Now, _that's_ a parting kiss," I said, grinning. "I'll call you."

"Bye Meg."

As the door closed behind Dick Louis let out a low whistle, amusement glittering in his lovely dark eyes. He gaze an arch look, the kind that I knew _exactly_ what he wanted to say.

"Shut up."

"You've vehemently stayed clear of _any_ guy that looked at you with even remote interest. Heck, you practically scare off anyone that might have feelings for you. Now _you've_ got yourself a beau that's crazy in love with you and you're _not_ running for the hills."

I glanced at him. "Trust me, I tried but-"

He laughed. "But you've already fallen for him. I don't blame you – I really don't. He looks like one of the really good ones, the rare kind."

With an arch brow I flicked a wrist. " _But?"_

"But you're a wildfire, Meg. You are the very definition of _complicated_ and have secrets more than anyone I know. The kind I reckon you can't tell that beau of yours, so ask yourself – are you okay with being with someone you can't be completely honest with? And even if you're okay with it, then ask yourself is it fair on him? You're making him live in a lie and he doesn't even know it."

I glanced at the door, Dick's parting words stinging. _Goodbye Meg._ It was then I realised I wanted someone _new,_ someone who wasn't bogged down with all the mess of the past and the experiments, to call by my real name.

I wanted to hear different parting words.

 _Goodbye Max._ I wanted _those_ words.

* * *

 **Sasha** drove me back to the apartment. She was oddly silent the whole drive, even as she helped me get my bags inside. Only when she returned after putting my bag in my room did she stop and look at me, drawing a deep breath before she spoke.

"Someone changed your file."

I froze. "What?"

"Someone went into the hospital files and amended your blood results. To any normal doctor there was nothing amiss but…"

Something clicked in my head. A horrifying realisation stirred in me, old memories rushing up to the surface. Betrayal burnt my lips, made me silent for a moment as I tried to rein in every curse I knew. She'd grown silent because she saw my expression, saw as I began to understand why she'd been so busy. It wasn't because she was _angry_ with me; rather, it was because she'd been going behind my back. _Lying_ to _me._ The person she was meant to be honest with. No secrets. It had been the oath we swore to each other. We'd lie and cheat, use whoever we needed but, to each other, we had to be _honest_ with each other. It meant we could trust each other, have each other's back. I'd been _honest_ with my involvement with the League, open and clear, even though I'd known how much it hurt her. I'd done it because I damn well respected herself with the truth, that she'd survive it.

"You went to _her,_ " I said in a low voice, venom dripping from each word. "After all she did – she _hurt_ me, Sash. She _hurt_ me."

Sash looked away, her cheeks pink with shame. "So did I."

"You _didn't drain me with an inch of my life, then continue doing it to see how much blood I could produce and what changes were there in the new regenerated blood!"_ I shrieked at her. "When I _begged_ her to stop you know what she did? She _laughed_ and _kept going!"_

Sasha tried to take a step forward, one hand outstretched but I wasn't having any of it, stepping back with a face of betrayal and fury.

"Meg-"

I stormed past her, right to the front door. There wasn't any way I was sticking around. If I did, I'd didn't trust myself not to hurt her. "Go to hell and take that bitch with you."


	11. Chapter 11

" _Please, stop! I don't want to do this anymore," howled Max, scrambling to the corner of the room._

 _The tall woman laughed coldly. "You will come – and you will obey. You want to see your brother, don't you?"_

 _Max stared back, frightened and angry – one day she'd make them pay. She'd make them all pay._

 **Chapter 11 Truth**

It was raining so heavily that he almost didn't hear the knock at the door. He pushed himself off the couch, tidying up a bunch of reports from the company, and went to the door, wondering who it was. He passed the clock in the hall, saw it was almost nine pm. At the door he paused, then opened it.

" _Meg?"_

Soaked to the bone, she was like a drowned rat, her hair clinging to her face. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, goose bumps all over her skin. Shivering, she looked up at him.

"I didn't know where else to go," she mumbled awkwardly.

Nodding, still surprised, he ushered her inside to the living room. He strode off and fished out a clean shirt and some pants from his room, likely too big but at least they were dry. When he returned she was still standing there, shaking.

"Here's some dry clothes. You can use my shower and warm up. I'll go get a bed ready for you."

She nodded and followed him into his bedroom, then strode ahead into the ensuite. With the door closed behind her he went and set up the spare bed; fresh sheets, as well as a blanket. He flicked the heater on, then stared at the room. What else did he have to do? A part of him would've offered _his_ bed but they hadn't gone down _that_ road yet. He wasn't even sure where they stood with each other but he felt that offering her a spare bed was the safest option, and probably the least awkward for them both.

He was sitting at the bench in the kitchen when she came in, arms still wrapped around her waist. The vulnerability left him quiet, unused to seeing her fire a tiny flame, the fierceness subdued. Her eyes, after glancing about the kitchen, settled on his, still incredibly guarded.

"Thanks for this. It won't be for long – it's just…"

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me any-"

"Yes, I _do,_ " she reprimanded him sharply, anger sparking in her eyes. "I'm so _damn_ tired of the secrets, of living my life like I'm terrified that I'll be dragged to that _hell_ I barely escaped. I've lived ten years with someone I thought I could trust, someone who was willing to work and _trust_ the snakes that…"

He closed his laptop. As much as he'd wanted her to open up he hated that she had to be so _low_ to do it. It twisted in his gut like a knife. Although he wanted to hold her, let her tell him what she needed to but she gave him the look that kept him sitting.

"Do you want a drink?"

" _Yes._ "

She followed him into the living room, where he poured two glasses of whiskey – from his finest bottle, one of the strongest he owned. Wordlessly, she took the glass and went to the glass double doors. She didn't go out onto the balcony but stayed by the glass, peering out, her gaze somewhere far away. Two slender hands curled around the glass, holding it up around her lips.

As he took a seat on a nearby couch he waited for her to speak. It didn't seem he was going to wait long as she took one deep sip, finishing off the drink in one go. After a breath she turned to him.

She tossed the glass at him – he jumped to catch it, then she vanished before him.

Reappearing a split second later, her hand around the glass. She looked at him, studying, wary. All walls were up. Hackles raised, ready for the worst reaction.

"You're a Meta human," he stated.

She blinked, then shook her head. "No. I wish I was. It's a little more complicated than that." Her brow furrowed. "How come you're not freaking out?"

He shrugged. "I'm friends with Meta humans, seen a lot. It's not scary. It's pretty whelming, to be honest."

The corner of her lips twitched with amusement. "Whelming?" She sat down beside him, casting him a thoughtful look. "You certainly aren't like most guys, are you?"

* * *

 **Sasha** could still remember the look in Max's eyes – the _betrayal,_ the raw _grief._ All of it Sasha's fault. Oh, she knew there'd been a danger with reaching out to her old work colleges and she had hid it from Max on purpose. She had no choice. Veizner knew Max's blood better than anyone; if there was any chance at studying the blood and figuring out _what_ was happening it was with Veizner. It'd take too much time and it was simply _too_ risky to try and bring someone else into the loop. Still, that _look_ in her eyes had been like a knife to the chest. Repeatedly.

As she swiped an old forged pass and slipped into the coroner's office at Gotham General she wished Max was with her. With Max she didn't have to worry about cameras or alarms; without her, Sasha was edgy and alone. Pushing away the unhelpful thoughts she strode down the empty hallway, the staff all away on lunch break, passing numerous offices until she reached the one she was after. Glancing up and down the hall she saw no one, then slipped into the office.

She strode over the computer and sat down, plugging in a thumb drive. Immediately the drive got to work, slipping through the few layers of security. Within seconds she was in and it didn't take long to sift through the files, bring up the recent records. Unfortunately, the coroner in question had done over a dozen autopsies – yet only one stated by suicide. A John Doe. There was a corresponding number denoting where the body was stored in the morgue, since it was dated to be moved in a week. Copying across the file she logged off, hid the thumb drive in her bag and strode out of the office.

Glancing at her watch she calculated she had twenty minutes before lunch was over. Not enough time to do a thorough examination but just enough to check a couple things.

It wasn't hard to get down the morgue, just an elevator and down a couple steps into a spacious room. She followed the numbers on each compartment until she found the one she was after. She pulled the tray out and got to work, checking behind the ear, the nape of the neck and on several other places. Behind the neck, then across the shoulder blades, were several small puncture marks. According to the coroner's report they were needle marks. Sasha knew that he'd only called them that because he had no idea what they were really were.

Sasha had seen them once before, back when she'd been a part of the experiments on Max and Sam. She'd seen on them on the Meta Humans that were used in the tests, though she'd never learnt _how_ the marks happened. It happened behind doors she wasn't cleared to enter.

So what caused the marks? And how did they appear on a John Doe, the very man who tried to kill Max?

* * *

" **So** teleporting is _easy?"_ Dick echoed, his mind still reeling from everything she told him – her gifts, the experiment, the years on the run.

She laughed. "No. Not anymore. I'm not as strong as I used to be. I can only move short distances."

"Wait – what happened?"

A shadow fell over her face and she looked away, her gaze guarded. Irritation flickered in her eyes. He almost thought it was his fault but he recognised the look as anger at _herself._ She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, the fury slowly ebbing from her face, the tension easing from her shoulders.

"I don't know. I have these tiny machines in me that keep me healthy, heal up wounds – only, they're not working properly. Hence why I was in hospital. That wound shouldn't have even knocked me down," she said, rubbing her arm. "I was growing so strong the past year and now…"

"Now you're getting weaker."

"It doesn't make much sense, does it?" She pulled her lips back, her gaze thoughtful and deep. "Then again, not a lot in my life often makes sense."

"Is there someone else like you? Someone you could go to for answers?"

Something flashed in her eyes – just for a second, then it was gone. She shook her head but she didn't meet his gaze. _Liar,_ his mind whispered. Why be so truthful but hide something that could help her? Unless she was worried he'd go to them without her, do exactly what Sasha had done behind her back? Of course, there was always Sasha but any collaboration after what she'd done seemed off the table. If he went to Sasha, against Meg's wishes, he'd end up exactly where Sasha was. On the outside looking in. Then who would she go to? Meg didn't seem like the person to entrust her secrets to anyone. He suspected what he'd been told was only known to Sasha and now him.

"I don't have anyone," she whispered.

He put a hand on hers but he didn't say anything. There was no need to. Their eyes met. _You have me._ She squeezed his hand, then brought it to her lips. He didn't move as she got up, then sat down beside him, curling into his side. It wasn't a cry of love but it was her warming up to him, opening up.

They fell asleep together but when he woke Meg wasn't by his side. His ears detected the feint patter of footsteps, the sizzle of something cooking in a pan. Tilting his nose up his mouth watered. Bacon and eggs. Lured by the prospect of breakfast he rose and found Meg cooking, her gaze focused on the pan. Before he even got close she glanced at him, her senses too sharp for a normal human, and regarded him closely. There wasn't that same warmth in her eyes from last night. It was as though now she told him she seemed to suspect the initial interest had worn off, that he'd act as she'd first expected – with shock and revulsion. Her wary gaze remained on him – even as he walked right up to her and kissed her.

She pulled back, her eyes wide, startled. They softened – just for a second, then grew guarded and cool again. "Good morning. I thought I'd cook – I'll pay for some rent, too."

He opened his mouth to argue but felt that it'd fall of deaf ears. She'd dig her heels in, make him accept her offer. It seemed pointless to argue. Closing his mouth he nodded slowly and retrieved some plates from the cupboards, returning just in time for breakfast to be served. Wordlessly, he followed her to the dining table and sat down with her.

"I have to go into work today but feel free to relax here. There's a ton of movies to watch, internet and a bookshelf in my room," he said awkwardly.

She paused and met his gaze. "That's okay. I've got some people I need to talk to today. Just some work stuff. Should take me most of the day but I'll be back around five."

Alarm bells rang in his ears. He wondered who the 'some people' were, and what she needed to talk to them about. The way she spoke, the intentional vagueness, made it seem like she was hiding things from him. Did he push? Even after she'd confessed so much; or, once again, was he caught by half-truths and only by the information she _wanted_ him to know. Information that would put him where she wanted, where it was easier for her.

"I'll see you when you're done, then. Call me if you need a lift," he ended up saying.

Her eyes fell. To his confusion, she seemed disappointed.

* * *

 **Benny,** in usual fashion, was dressed impeccably and sitting at the empty bar of the _Olympia._ Louis was replaced with Benny's private bartender, a tiny dark haired woman with impassive almond brown eyes. Even the rest of the usual staff were vacant, replaced by several guards scattered about. In normal routine the whole club was vacant for him, one of his numerous security measures.

As I strode up to him two guards stopped me; one went to pat me down but Benny snapped at them, dismissing them with a flick of his hand. Untouched, I continued on and took a seat next to him. I made my order and once it was pushed in front of me I turned to him, finding him smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"How does it feel to be like one of us mere mortals?" He drawled with that languid grin of his, the kind that would've been creepy on anyone else.

I took a sip and set the glass down. "Horrible. Would I be right to assume you've looked into the matter?"

Benny's eyes glittered with amusement. "When my best partner is shot I thought it prudent, though mainly because I knew you'd want to get to the bottom of this. If I didn't help you heaven knows what trouble you'd make for me."

"Ever the micro manager," I said with a smile, holding my glass up.

He tapped his against mine. "Naturally. Now, I am afraid that it seems the shooter was a dead end. A boring middle class man with no debts, no sordid affairs – not even some nasty stuff on his computer. You are welcome to search that, if you'd like. I also had my people look into street footage but nothing there."

"Please don't tell me you called me here because you're lonely and want to chat."

He laughed, sobering after a few seconds; the corner of his lips still twitched, a smile still threatening. "Your conversation isn't _that_ exciting, dear. No, I thought you might find _this_ interesting."

With a flick of his wrist the bartender retrieved a file from the underside of the bench, then slid it across. He gestured for me to open. Obediently, I opened it up and leafed through the first few pages, quickly scanning the contents. Coroner's reports. In confusion, I looked up.

"I don't understand."

He pointed to a picture – the same picture the first few coroner reports, and was likely in the ones I hadn't yet checked. A picture of the upper back, showing a series of strange puncture marks at the back.

"Now, the coroner reports that those are needle marks. Wrong, naturally-"

"Naturally."

"Your habit of interrupting me is one of the reason you _don't_ make good company," said Benny. "As I was _saying,_ what links all these poor souls is those marks – and the behaviour they exhibited they displayed before they died. Abnormal. Several were reported to have made the same phrase before they died of a heart attack or stroke."

A trickle of ice slithered down my spine. "What did they say?"

"Please forgive. I can't wait any longer." Benny tilted his head. "I recall that is what you told the police your shooter said."

"Ok," I said slowly. "But my guy didn't die of natural causes. He shot himself."

"Yes because he's a Meta Human – well, all these poor souls were but this guy's ability lay with an iron clad immune system. He never got sick, was immune to _every_ disease he encountered. I suspect whatever strain his body was put under when he confronted you was equalised by his power – then whenever the true fiend was done he was disposed of, his tracks covered up."

"But that's just it – were they really done? I survived."

Benny stared at me, amused. "Indeed. You seem to have stuck a lovely thorn in someone's well laid plan."


	12. Chapter 12

" _He's defied us at every chance – and he doesn't seem to care if we hurt his sister. In fact, he seems to like how much we hurt her," said Foster with a hiss of irritation._

 _Sasha looked up, a knife twisting in her gut. "Dr Veizner seems to think she can break the girl. Shall we proceed?"_

 _Foster nodded, flicking his hand. "Break her. I want her crushed."_

 **Chapter 12 Deception**

" **Look** on the bright side – you're alive. Which means they'll probably try again and that gives you time to figure out who wants you dead," said Benny with a sip of his drink.

I stared at him. In the years I'd known and worked with him I'd marvelled at how positive he always seemed. When I'd asked him about it once he simply told me he liked being happy, that being a paranoid and gloomy mobster would lead to an early grave. And he very much _liked_ living.

"Are there any Meta humans with these abilities?"

Benny pulled a face. "I don't have access to that data base. My own little list was useless. My advice? Hack the Justice League's data base."

"You say that like it's _easy_ to do," I drawled, ordering another drink. "Although I don't have to worry about upsetting Sash anymore."

"I heard you and her had a little tiff," purred Benny. "Such a shame. You two made such a lovely little team."

Anger flared in my chest, memories stirring. At the sight of my clenched fists Benny chuckled, as if he found the whole thing hilarious. Like it was a small fight and that after a week Sash and I would be best friends again, as if we were children. We weren't. I was almost twenty four and Sasha was arguably seventeen years my senior, though she scarcely looked a day over thirty. The European born scientist barely even had a wrinkle, let alone any sign of being just over forty.

"I do suspect I may have overplayed my hand when I spoke to League," I said regretfully. "No doubt _Batman_ has put measures in place to stop any hack. At least, not the same way I entered before."

Benny examined me critically for a moment, thoughts ticking over in his head like a clock. "In your current state would you be adverse to _joining_ them? At least temporarily?"

"A wolf in sheep's clothing?"

"More like a crippled wolf but yes."

I wanted to remind him that I wasn't crippled, simply weakened. That _word,_ to me, implied that there was no recovery. I was convinced that whatever was wrong would be over, that this was simply the calm before the storm. The alternative was too uncomfortable to think about.

"The League won't go for it."

Benny's brow lifted. "Don't the League _love_ the redemption story, the underdog and bad guy turning it around to become a grand hero?"

"They're idealistic, not stupid," I reminded him. "They won't buy it. I'm not exactly a model of a saint."

With a low chuckle Benny rose and tapped my hand. "They are both of those things. That's what'll make this so easy. Personally, I'd hurry. You never know when someone might take another shot at you – and they may not miss the next time."

* * *

 **The** frozen night was clear, the rain clouds far from Gotham's smoggy towers, and the pervading frost left a thin layer of glassy frost over the bike. Leaning against it, my hands wrapped up in the warmth of the faux fur lined gloves, I almost felt bad at having nicked the bike from the apartment. The costume and much of the gear, too. Sasha would then know I'd decided to go ahead with my mission, without her. Eventually, she'd learn about the League too and get all angry about it. We weren't partners anymore, so I didn't really care.

I glanced out across the industrial estate, much of which had been vacant for years, the windows boarded up and the doors locked. There were no functioning cameras and the estate was on the edge of town, far from prying eyes and nosy cops. The perfect place for a meeting.

Scanning the wide roads, once bustling with monstrous trucks, lay strewn with newspapers and flyers that had flown in on the afternoon wind. As a flurry whipped up a tumble of flyers swirled across the road, vanishing down a shadowy alley. The brief amusement passed into a silence, broken only by the intermittent moan of the wind writhing through the warehouses.

"You certainly like obscure meeting places," murmured Nightwing, dropping down from a warehouse above me, right to the ground before her.

I set my hands behind me on the bike, leaning back with a purring laugh. "I don't like prying eyes. Besides, this is much more intimate, don't you think?"

He laughed but it wasn't as warm as I would've liked. Not as nice as Dick's, which was warm and turned my insides molten. Still, it was expected – every move, word and implication practised and said with precision.

"What do you want Glitch?"

I straightened up. "Remember the lab?"

"It's hard to forget," he murmured quietly.

"I know I implied that only I got out, that I was the only one who survived that place," I said slowly, the lies dripping easily. "There were others."

Even with his mask I saw his brow lift, saw the twitch of his facial reaction. Curiosity beckoned him closer, not much – not within reach. Enough, however, that I could see every inch of his lovely muscle beneath his _very_ tight suit.

"Others?"

Turning around I fished out a small folder from the storage beneath the seat, then handed it out. Without speaking I let him take, didn't move as he stepped back, out of reach. I watched him leaf through, lingering for a fraction longer than I expected on one file. I couldn't see _whose_ file had his attention. When he closed the folder and looked up, waiting for me to explain. To tell him more.

"Some of them are dead now, killed in a string of recent attacks. A couple are still alive. One, a young girl, just got out of hospital – she escaped _barely._ What I'm getting at is someone is targeting these kids." I drew a deep breath, then went on. "A Meta human, a very dangerous one with the ability to control other people like a puppet." I took a step forward, a risky leap of faith. "I can only do so much on my own. I know I'm not a hero. Not like your friends because I've spent my whole life helping these kids. Now, they're in danger and I can't do this alone. Please, I'm asking for the League's help."

Nightwing was a silent for a moment; then: "Why me?"

I thought about when he saved me, cleaved me from the murky darkness. Truth toyed on my tongue. "I like you. Now, will you at least see if they'll help me?"

"Of course. If they don't…You have my help."

Beneath my mask I grinned like a cheshire cat. _Hook, line and sinker._

* * *

 **Back** in the Dick's apartment I pulled out my spare phone, the third which was only used to speak with Benny. Courtesy of a secret in a bag I'd brought from my own apartment, full of spare clothes and toiletries. After a quick cursory scan I found no bugs, nor cameras. Though there was some equipment for _detecting_ bugs in a nearby wardrobe, which stirred briefly to life at my probe, dying into slumber as I withdrew. I called Benny's number and after two rings he answered.

"So, my beautiful, how did it go?"

I smiled, staring out of the window overlooking the city. "Hook, line and sinker. At the very least I've got Batman's first robin on my side, if the League prove difficult. I imagine I'll be in a week."

"That may still be too long," tutted Benny.

"Oh shove it. I can't rush it otherwise I'll have Batman chasing me from one continent and I'm in _no_ shape to be running. Heck, even using basic skills is giving me a monster head ache right now."

Benny chuckled. "That does sound like a _you_ problem. I will, however, continue to look into the matter. You should know Sasha has been digging around, too. I have a contact that places her at the coroner's office, looking into your shooter's history. I imagine it won't take her long to come to the same conclusion as us."

"Lucky for me she won't go anywhere near the League."

"True but your friend is terribly resourceful. I must go but chat soon beautiful?"

"I'll call you later – don't call this number under _any_ circumstance," I said quietly.

Benny chuckled. "No late night booty calls?"

"Save that for Molly." I hung up just as I heard the front door click open, then shut, footsteps sounding down the hall.

I stuck my head out the living room. "Hey, Dick – how was work?"

"Boring. I don't know how Bruce does it," he replied, flopping down onto the couch.

I sat down on the coffee table before him, grinning. It didn't feel forced anymore, the role becoming more real than I'd planned. When I had crossed that line?

"Alcohol, women, money?"

"I don't drink, I've got you and I don't worry about money."

His words pounded in my skull, burned through my veins.

 _I've got you._

* * *

 **Bruce** stared at the monitor before him, the file of Meghan Willoughby displayed. His gaze scanned every line of information carefully, pausing over every financial transaction, every glimmer of footage. There had to be something to prove she wasn't who she said she was, something to cleave her away from Dick. She'd moved in, according to Dick, for a couple weeks due to personal problems. With her hooks sunk in he knew he'd a smoking gun to drive Dick and her apart. If he could prove she was somehow involved in something criminal, he could really get rid of her. She worked in a club owned by mobster Benny Silvertongue, and was seen to be friendly with him. Unfortunately, Dick knew about _that._ He knew Dick had even visited the _Olympia_ on occasions, meeting Meghan, watching her perform.

He exhaled deeply and stretched back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Behind him he heard the feint patter of footsteps against the floor, the sound of Alfred's soft shoes. After several breaths Alfred appeared and set down a tray of food; a sandwich, a coffee, two biscuits and an apple. Bruce didn't acknowledge the food, his stomach not even rumbling.

"I do find that one's mind tends to be focused on a full stomach, Master Bruce," said Alfred in that fatherly way of his. "Are you quite sure there is something nefarious about this young miss?"

Bruce glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "You want me to welcome her with open arms, even when she has these questionable alliances and a _too_ clean record."

"Master Dick does possess a good head for character. Perhaps this girl is a _good egg_ , as a friend of mine would say," said Alfred, his wise old eyes scanning the information. "A clean record is good, is it not?"

"It's _too_ clean and I don't trust her," muttered Bruce.

Alfred sighed. "Very well. Shall I bring down some more tea, then?"

Hours crept on as Bruce pain staking combed back over every inch of Meghan Willoughby's life, cleaving every interesting fact he could. Which was oddly few and far between – too few, for his taste. No one was that clean, everyone had something lurking in their shadowy wardrobes. A brief drug addiction, gambling, a speeding fine, some sort of mistake in their past. Though he knew there were a few people out there who were good, none worked in clubs owned by mobsters, who had lives that seemed like they'd been made up.

As the lack of sleep sunk its hooks into him, tugging him down into exhaustion – the result of being awake for almost two days straight, his mind gnawing with thoughts of Meghan Willoughby. He chased several cups of coffee, along with a couple cups of tea. After each couple he felt briefly revitalised, awakened with a keen, crisp mind, only to descend into a thick fog, his thoughts scattering before they formed coherence. He kept thinking he was seeing things, only to realise what he thought was serious was anything but.

Was Meghan Willoughby simply a good person who was strong enough to maintain her morals in a corrupt world, amongst a den of criminals and liars?

 _No,_ his mind whispered savagely.

But where did the mistake exist? Where was the chink in her polished little lie of a life? The problem was that she had such a polished lie, every detail seemingly ironed out. There had to be someone in her life he could squeeze, someone who _knew_ the real her. Was it her so called _sister?_ One of her close friends at the club? Or someone who existed purely in the shadow, away from prying eyes? With Meghan he didn't _know,_ couldn't be sure of _who_ she was, as she was cloaked in so much shadow and pretty lies.

Alfred returned, cleaned away the dishes, and then returned half an hour later with a fresh cup of tea.

"How goes the hunt on our mysterious miss?"

Bruce didn't need to turn to see the smile on his butler's face, the glimmer of laughter in those ancient eyes. It gnawed with irritation on his mind, which his old friend knew _very_ well. Knew how much the loss of information gnawed at him.

"There is _something_ that will unravel the world she's made up," said Batman. "She has to know a Meta human or an exceptional hacker to have made it. If I found them I could bring it all down."

"What about that criminal you dealt with at the lab – Glitch, was it?"

"It's _possible_ ," conceded Bruce. "It could be within her abilities but that hacker's focus is on her own agenda. However, I won't dismiss it."

"Personally, Master Bruce, I would speak to that sister of hers – even if she is not someone involved I suspect she may have noticed _something_ over the years."

Bruce brought up a picture of Sasha Willoughby, the striking older woman, with almost seventeen years between them. A big difference between siblings but not unlikely. Not unheard of. Strangely, though, there was even less on the sibling – a normal education, brief jobs here and there, mostly random. To the outside world she seemed like a drifter, yet her _eyes_ told a different story. They stared back at him, strong and unyielding.

There was a fire in her eyes.

* * *

 **The** nightmares woke me again; Veizner standing over me, a needle in hand, the amber liquid glinting in the harsh sterile light. I woke up screaming, the darkness of the room swallowing me up – then:

The door burst open. The light from the hallway burst in, a figure framed in gold, whom slipped into shadow as they strode in. A wide band of moonlight spilt in from a crack in the curtains. Dick's face appeared before plunging into shadow his form appearing before her. His long, muscular arms wrapped around me, rubbing small circles on my back. I was dimly aware of murmuring something soft to me, his voice haggard from sleepy, soothing the tremulous ache in my chest. When he finally pulled back I reached across and flicked on the bedside light. With a deep breath I dared to look back at Dick, whose patient eyes held questions – restrained behind kindness.

"I dreamt I was back at the lab," I whispered, unsure of why I was telling _him_ that. "The woman…The woman who Sasha was…That's who I saw. She was sent into to break me."

"Break you?" He echoed, his voice touched with horror.

My heart still slammed against my ribs as I flashed him a shaky smile, my own hands still trembling in his. "I wasn't _obedient_."

His grip tightened in my own. "I'll find who did this to you and I'll-"

"Do what?" I pinned him with a knowing look. "You can't stop these people. They work in the shadows, play in such a way to not catch the attention of the League. I mean, if my old friends don't try to take over the world, the League won't intervene."

Dick nodded grimly, shadows dancing in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

The corner of my lips twitched. "Honestly? I haven't been _okay_ in a long time. For now, I'll survive, though. As you said, I'm a survivor." As he went to leave I grabbed his hand. "Can you stay?"

His gaze held mine for what felt like an eternity, his simmering blue eyes; then, he nodded. I watched him intently as he walked around the bed and climbed in. Silently, I flicked off the light and crawled under the sheets. In the darkness I found his arms waiting, his body warm as I curled into his side, seeking the comfort and protection of his embrace. His breath fanned my ear.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me."

I believed him and I fell asleep, dreaming of a great field stretched out before a great, glass castle, glittering beneath two full moons and a jewel-lit sky.


	13. Chapter 13

" _Do you understand what you must do?" A tall willowy woman with an ethereal glow asked, her form shifting in and out of solidity._

 _The young boy, barely old enough to understand the gravity of the mission set before him, nodded. In the shelter of their tiny home, his mission sleeping soundly in the next room, his world had been forever changed in ways he didn't even understand. In ways he wouldn't for years to come._

 _A nearby door opened; in came a dirty, dusty man with tattered clothes. He looked to the boy first, then to the ghostly woman, his eyes grave and sombre, touched with grief._

" _It's time."_

 **Chapter 13 Mind**

Sasha was _done_ with mobsters. Useless, the lot of them. As the _Olympia_ fell away behind her, the dark streets of Gotham outstretching its spidery, shadowy hands, she missed Max. In the darkness her friend would reach out and use her gift to look through all the cameras, to see for danger and know the world. Losing Max was like losing a limb, being blind when all you've ever known is bright, vivid colour.

She cut through the park, which was ominous and unsettling. The great trees, planted over a hundred years, cast tangled shadows across the cracked footpath. Tangled undergrowth enclosed the way, a path in the darkness. Instinctively, she made herself several inches taller – and male. Just through the park. At the iron gates she eased back to her normal shape, her skin tightening over the smaller frame, the tinier muscles. She blinked twice. Small changes didn't hurt but bigger ones, they left her aching and sore, a headache pounding for days.

"Interesting party trick," murmured a deep, gravelly voice.

Sasha stilled but didn't feel afraid. Living with monsters, _working_ for them, doing their bidding. It dulled that side of her. Slowly, she turned and saw the Dark Knight himself, Gotham's saviour, standing there. Beneath his cowl his expression was hidden but his mouth was firm, impassive, his jaw tight.

"What do you want?"

"Tell me about Meghan Willoughby."

She tilted her head and laughed. "You must have the wrong girl. My sister is about as harmless as a fly. A talented singer, a great card player but hardly a criminal."

"I never said she was," he replied.

"Something tells me there is little other reason you'd be asking about someone."

"Who is Meghan Willoughby really?"

Her lips soured into a thin line, her eyes glittering darkly. "Listen, I've had a _foul_ day and problems bigger than whatever nonsense than you or your _League_ are digging up. You know what? Do the world a favour for _once_ and leave us _alone_."

She turned and stalked away, fuming.

"Wait!"

His hand curled around her upper arm. She yanked it away with a savage hiss, turning on him, growing until she was as big as him and just as muscular. With eyes blazing she stepped back, a string of curses barely contained. Old memories stirred with such violence to the front of her mind. A mother crying for a child that wouldn't wake up. A sister whose last words were hateful curses. A friend who broke a promise.

A city in ruins.

" _Don't_ you _dare_ touch me!" She shrieked, her voice dripping with such venom and fervour, that Batman stepped back. "Meghan and I have escaped _hell_. It doesn't matter _who_ we were before, only that we survived so don't you _dare_ ruin it for her now. She'd die before she'd go back – and I'd happily kill you and your _friends_ if you shred her life apart out of some sick heroic ego."

He didn't say anything but she felt his eyes on her back as she walked away.

* * *

 **I** stared back at my reflection, at the patch over the wound, at the rest of my skin, wishing for old wounds to be seen. Unfortunately, with nanites, one didn't scar. I wondered, however, since my little machines weren't working properly if I would finally get my first scar.

"You look beautiful," said Dick, softly, appearing at the doorway of the bedroom.

In little more than a tiny bra and underwear, wearing the least he'd ever seen me in. Not the first time someone had seen me in so little, I was surprised to feel a little pink beneath his simmering stare. Even I knew what the tug in my belly meant, what the warm blood rushing through me sang for. With a deep breath, I turned back to the mirror.

"It'll be my first scar," I announced. "Do I even try to hide it?"

Dick sat down at the side of the bed, watching me. "Why?"

Still unwilling to meet his gaze I grabbed a woollen top and yanked it over. "It's not exactly sexy."

"You're perfectly sexy – scars and all."

I wriggled into a pair of jeans. "I'll talk to Benny about it. Likely he'll just say no more crop tops. Fine by me."

"You don't think he will fire you?"

I glanced back at him, a faint smile. "Fire his best singer? Unlikely."

Dick retreated as his phone rang, leaving me alone to drag a brush through my tangled hair. With a hiss I looked away from the mirror, at my morning face. _Jeez,_ I thought darkly, _what did he see?_ Using the chance I checked my spare phone, saw that one of Benny's contact had been left a note by Nightwing.

 _Meeting arranged. Gotham Park, 1AM._

As I slipped my phone into my bag Dick returned. "Sorry, I might be late tonight. Works come up."

I smiled. "That's okay. I've got some stuff at the Olympia to deal with, so I may not be back till tomorrow morning. I'll call you."

A strange look flickered in his eyes for a moment – disappointment? It slipped away, a smile there instead. He kissed my cheek then left, closing the door softly door behind him. Alone, I found a dark mood settle over me. Even with Dick the lies came too easily, no effort or thought about it.

Guilt burrowed in my gut.

 _So much for not getting attached, Max. Genius, aren't you?_

* * *

 _ **What**_ _are you doing Dick?_ He thought, waiting for Glitch to appear. Beside him Superman waited, along with Flash. The latter had said he'd wanted to see the infamous hacker Glitch, with whom he confessed to have experienced with when she swept through his city a couple years ago. As for the Man of Steel Dick didn't know _what_ the Kryptonian's opinion was, if he even thought much of Glitch's offer. Still, it was _something_ that the League thought anything of the offer at all, and that they believed it was worth enough to send senior members to listen. He wondered if they were considering recruiting Glitch, if helping her was a way to sweeten the bargain?

As his mind drifted to Glitch, to the way she'd fiercely spoken about the experiments – the same experiments that had trapped Meghan. He remembered the labs, those cold cells and the dying girl. Was that what Glitch and Meg saw for years, what they endured?

From the shadows his eyes latched onto a figure emerging, walking slowly up to them – _no,_ she was _strutting._ Glitch. A smile was tugging at his mouth before he could do anything, Glitch stopping before them, taking a seat up on a park bench. She stretched out, her flattened hands against the table, her head tilted to the side a fraction. He reckoned she was smirking beneath that mask of hers. No wonder Batman didn't like her.

"Look at the _audience_ I've got," she drawled, her voice crackling in that mechanical way of hers, her gaze lingering on Flash. "I remember you."

He blurred towards her, a hand outstretched, grinning roguishly. "Flash. Saw your handiwork back in Central City. Had to meet the genius behind it."

She giggled – she actually _giggled_ – and preened like some fancy bird. "The fastest man alive – I do hope you're not _too_ fast. That'd be such a shame."

And the fastest man alive _blushed._ Behind Dick Superman cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"You said you needed our help. It was important."

In that second her body stiffened, the sultry air dissolved into a tense, guarded posture. Her head straightened and seemed to stare straight at Superman.

"You had a look at the files, so you know what I'm asking."

"You're after a Meta human."

She sucked in a sharp breath, like she was trying to stop herself from lashing out. "I'm _after_ a killer, someone who is _hunting_ my people. I don't want him dead. I want answers."

"About what?"

Her head flickered between all of them, then settled on Superman. "What should _concern_ you is the fact kids are being gunned down and butchered merely for surviving that hell hole."

There was an icy patience about her voice, something that made even _him_ pause. It seemed to veil a threat, leaving the possibility of what she'd do in the event they pushed her, out in the open. A nightmare to ponder. He glanced at Superman, saw the muscles twitch. It seemed even the Kryptonian himself didn't know _what_ to make of the hacker, whose full power they'd yet to witness – to understand.

She jumped off the table. "You find him, get that warm and fuzzy feeling about catching a bad guy, and then give me _five_ minutes to _talk_ to him. After that, we're finished."

"So quick to be done with us?" Flash joked.

Her head snapped to him, a breath let out. "I can't afford to be swept into your world – there's too much hinging on me _not_ getting distracted. Now, you have my number – call when you find something. I'll call you likewise."

Superman stepped closer, she took a step back, his brow furrowed. "You want our help but won't work with us?"

She tiled her head. "Where do you propose we _work_ together? It can't be Mt Justice since that got blown to smithereens and that public one is a prop. As for your other ones scattered about they don't have much in the way of computers and are really just hideouts." She paused for a second, then ploughed ahead. "Unless you're proposing to let me into your club house? And if you did, would that be with or without your little beastie chained up?"

"Our _beastie?"_ Flash echoed with a chuckle.

"Batman."

Dick bit back a smile. He knew about Bruce's dogged hunt for Glitch and her likewise distaste of his old mentor. The two of them would tear each other apart, their mutual distrust and natures too similar and yet too different.

"Batman has put in measures to limit your access to the watchtower – you will be permitted there on strict conditions," said Superman calmly. "You will be under guard at all times. Any indication you have hacked into the systems and the deals off. Not only that you will be detained and jailed."

She chuckled. "You'd send _me_ to _jail?_ With what evidence?"

"Our _beastie_ has collected quite a file on you over the years; combined with evidence from Central City, along with the other cities you've frequented over the years. If we believe this offer of yours has been fabricated, if you're lying to further your criminal activities, to gain access to our systems – you'll be taken into custody."

Dick froze. He hadn't known about _that_ clause, that they were willing to jail her if she gave them any hint it wasn't real. While she'd put herself in their reach, he knew it was done either to help those kids at risk or the League was right and it was for something criminal. Although Glitch's story did coincide with Meg's attack, he grew uneasy at the possibility that she'd somehow uncovered his identity. That he was using his relationship – whatever _relationship_ he had anyway – with Meg against him. It seemed impossible but the same question kept plaguing him, niggling at his thoughts.

 _What if?_

He'd shown them the files. Bruce would've taken one look at the pictures and put the pieces together. Yet, despite that knowledge, his mentor had still offered the senior members the evidence he'd collected. All they needed to put Glitch away the second she stepped out of line, the second she acted like a criminal. But what if she decided that defying them was the best way to help Meg and the others? He could only think of one place Bruce would feel someone like Glitch could be contained. Dick was well aware of his old mentor's uneasy alliance with the woman who controlled the prisoners within.

Amanda Waller.

Would Glitch become another one of her pets?

And did Glitch know of the fate that likely awaited her at that prison? He somehow imagined she'd fight and claw and scream and shred the world apart before she let herself be captured. Before she let herself become someone else's pet.

"So it seems we have reached an understanding," she said airily. "Well, we best get to work. I've got a shooter to meet."

* * *

 **Fred** Walker hated being different. Hated not being _normal._ He often sat on his bed before going to bed, contemplating who hated him enough to make him different. Why couldn't be like his baby brother, Sammy, who was married with two kids and a _normal_ wife? Heck, Sammy even had the bloody white picket fence.

Sitting at his usual drinking hole, a dingy little bar, he just wanted to _forget_. Forget work. Forget his miserable existence. Mercifully, the bartender – the same sour-faced man – called Carlo, just kept serving his drinks. Without question. Fred knew Carlo did it out of pity but he didn't really care. As long as the drinks kept coming he didn't mind who pitied him or hated him or thought about him at all.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the numbers blurring, doubling; yet, in the next breath, he felt his mind clear, his body expelling the poison faster than he could drink it in. _Why can't I get drunk anymore?_ He wondered miserably.

"We're closing, Fred. Time to go," said Carlo quietly. "Want me to call you a cab?"

"No, I should be alright," mumbled Fred as he got up – and stepped right into someone.

He barely had time to react before he saw a fist – then felt it drive into his jaw. Bone snapped, gave way. Blood sprayed. He blinked several times and saw the drunk, watched as the man stared at him. Horror burst across his face.

"What _are_ you?" He shrieked, staggering back.

Fred opened his mouth to say something, to explain but fell silent as the man turned and ran. With a sigh he wandered over to the nearest window and saw his reflection, watched as a chunk of flesh on his cheek eased back into place, knitting back together. He felt the bone click into place, heal within seconds. Even as the wound healed he still looked like shit.

Behind him Carlo kept cleaning the bench, saying nothing. The old bartender had seen quite a bit of Fred's damn curse in the years.

Fred slapped a fifty down on the bench, then left without another word. The second he pushed out onto the street the clouds opened up, the rain torrential and stinging. He turned left and strode off, the streets empty. As the alcohol finally left his body he could feel his mind grow clearer, the way home easier to recall.

Up ahead, a figure appeared. Fred stopped, the rain pinching his cheeks raw and red, stinging his eyes. The figure didn't move – well, it did, just as Fred tried to move around. With a curse he approached.

"I heard about you. Guess it was only a matter of time before you came for me. You've been busy, so I don't blame you for not coming to me fist. Nabbing healers; witches, that Meta, hybrids, aliens," Fred said tiredly. "I'm just cursed. Of course, you'd be doing me a favour. I heard they all die after you're done with them."

The figure – just a shadow really – swept _through_ him. He felt it pause behind him. Then it happened. The sharp prick along his back.

Darkness came.

He let it swallow him whole.


	14. Chapter 14

" _Is it done?" A ghost woman asked, floating in a sterile white room, furnished with only a desk and two chairs._

 _At one chair sat a bald man, whom looked up at her, nodding. "The results are promising. If all goes well the subject should be ready on time. Then, I'm afraid, it is going to be a wait."_

" _Yes but unavoidable. We can only pray that is isn't too late."_

 **Chapter 14 Trigger**

 **The** League was called away on a mission, leaving me under guard. Nightwing stood by the door but it was Red Tornado whom aided me go through a list provided to me. It wasn't the data base I wanted but it was a starting point. It'd at least give me somewhere to look, to figure out who was targeting me and why. If I had answers to that then I was hopefully able to put it all behind me, then focus properly on finding Sam. Without Sasha.

I studied each file that flashed up on the display before me, filing away people of interest. Names to look up later. Yet in the back of my mind, I knew there was every chance that if I went out on the street again I'd be shot. Someone out there wanted me dead but who? I was sure that anyone from the experiment was more interested in having me back, rather than dead. As for enemies…I didn't have any as Meghan. As Glitch, I had plenty but I'd always kept my two lives very separate. Sasha was the only one who knew both lives, whom knew _everything._

And now I couldn't even trust her.

"You're distracted," murmured Nightwing, appearing behind one shoulder, looking at the screen.

I glanced up at him, frowning beneath my mask. "I've had a lot on my mind. This is a priority, though."

"I understand. Any ideas?"

Wary, I quietly asked Red Tornado to bring up the few that I'd asked him to store. Beside me Nightwing leaned in, brushing my shoulder as he examined the files. I found myself watching him, waiting for his decision, and dimly aware of his smell – which was oddly familiar. Shaking off the feeling, I waited for his answer.

"These are healers," he said quietly. "I thought you were looking for someone who could control people."

"My research has shown me that this shooter has made several attempts to find the right host; one who could handle the physical stress. A healer makes sense. That, and he's already tried on several before but they weren't strong enough. The most recent, a father of two, Theo Barnes, was a magician who talent was healing. I believe he was physically strong enough but, like most magicians, his mind was strong. He fought back after he shot Meghan Willoughby."

Nightwing swallowed hard, his Adams apple dipping. "So he's looking for a new host."

"That'd be my guest. If I can find him in the host form I know someone who can trap him, then I can find his real body and put an end to this. Finally." I glanced at him. "You'll get to lock up a bad guy and I get answers. It's a win for everyone."

He was silent for a moment, his lips drawn into a thin line. With a deep breath, as if he'd come to some sort of internal decision and had made peace with it, he fixed his gaze on me, scrutinising for a moment.

"Why don't you want him dead?"

The puzzlement in his voice stung; despite having never taken a life, at having only hacked and stolen from the worst of the worst, I was still seen as a criminal. The kind capable of murder. The line and distinction was so clear to me but, unfortunately, I realised, I looked like just another criminal and murderess. It seemed like the most painful kind of failure, sharp and poignant.

I turned to the screen and drew a deep breath, swallowing the venom that filled my mouth. "If I go down that road...There isn't any coming back from that. At the end of this there's someone I want to see and I could never look them in the eye if I did that."

"They sound pretty special," he murmured.

"Yes, he is. The kind you'd shred yourself apart for," I murmured softly.

"Boyfriend?"

I chuckled and corrected him. " _Brother_." After a pause, Sam's smiling face and kind eyes filling my mind. "He's the only blood family I've ever known. I'll get him back."

"Someone has him?" Keen interest stirred in his voice.

"Yes but I'll get him back. Then I'll make them pay. After all, there's _plenty_ I can do without killing someone."

* * *

 **All** thoughts of Glitch and her mysterious brother vanished from Dick's mind as he shuffled into his apartment, the lights off and the feint smell of pasta in the air. He smiled tiredly as he saw in the fridge was a plate left aside for him, accompanied by a brief note.

 _Thought you might be hungry when you got home._

 _M_

He took an apple instead, purely because he was too tired to reheat the dinner, though he made a mental note to thank her and eat it tomorrow. Throwing the apple core in the bin he downed two glasses of water and made his way down the hall, pausing at Meghan's room. He gently opened the door and peered in.

There, sprawled out in the most ungraceful way, her head half buried in a pillow and her hair a wild mess, was Meghan. Feint moonlight spilled in from the bedroom window, casting her in a silvery, ethereal light. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. With a regretful breath he started to withdraw when she stirred and sat up with a yawn.

"Dick?"

He paused for a moment, then reopened the door fully. "Sorry if I woke you. Didn't know if you were back from the Olympia."

"Didn't end up going in. Called in sick."

"Sick?" He echoed, taking a step into the room.

She smiled tiredly. "Just a bad head ache and a bit of nausea. I've slept most of today. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"You sure? I can stay."

"I'm sure Bruce has a lot of work for you. Besides, I'll be _fine,"_ she insisted, tilting her head with a lopsided smile. "But on the offer of _staying_ … Just to sleep by the way."

Once he had a shower and dressed he crept back into the room. She lifted the covers and let him in, curling into his side, surprising him a little. After a breath he relaxed and drew her into his arms, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Can this be a norm?" She whispered into his chest, her breath tickling and soft.

Confusion gnawed at him. He felt his grip on her tighten a fraction, the feint fear in her voice making him uneasy. Glitch's file on Meg, the shooting… He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"Sure."

After a pause: "Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I met you."

He didn't reply but listened as she fell asleep in his arms. Yet he was left awake, staring at the ceiling, her words replaying over and over in his head. _I'm glad I met you._

Like the words of someone dying.

* * *

 **The** Thorn and Hound was the least famous of Benny's clubs, yet it was known to the locals to have the best beer. As I sat at the bar, nursing a drink, my mind replayed over last night. _I'm glad I met you?_ I stared down at the beer, my nose wrinkling in disgust. Geez, I had gotten soft. _Weaker, too,_ I thought, recalling the blood I'd coughed up this morning after Dick left. I'd quickly cleaned it up and Benny had called a few minutes later.

Looking across the dingy club, lit by dozens of weak vintage lights, over the sprawling old tables and rickety chairs, I wondered why Benny even kept the place. Every other place he owned was expensively furnished, well-staffed, had top quality security and was always busy. The bar was pretty much empty, however, save for myself, the bartender restocking the shelves, and a couple on a table by the window. From the state of the bar, it seemed like the couple was probably the most action the bar had seen in a while.

The front door opened, bells jangling noisily as two burly men came in, followed by a sauntering Benny, and two more guards after him. The latter ushered the couple out, locked the door, and then closed the windows. As they did Benny took a seat next to me, watching almost anxiously, not with his usual sparkling humour. Once they were done he ordered a drink but didn't speak until it was before him.

"I just had a meeting with Vandal Savage," he said and took a swig of his drink. "Officially my least favourite chat."

I stilled. "What was he after?"

"You, of course. He's uncovered our _relationship_ and said he wants you," said Benny, anger flashing in his eyes. "Like I was just someone he could order about. Arrogant prick."

"What did you say?"

Benny's eyes flickered up, measuring. "I didn't throw you under the bus, if that's what you're thinking."

"You should have," I said quietly. "You've done so much for me, risked so much – you shouldn't risk his anger for me."

"I didn't do that either. I just said you had run out of town, chasing after the League for something. Relax, I just spun some bull but it wouldn't hurt if you kept quiet over the next few months. Like _zero_ Glitch time, if that's okay."

I nodded slowly. "There's still the issue of the shooter."

"I've got people looking into the list you gave me. We're also combing through footage over the city that day. Something will come up. My advice for you, though? Enjoy that new man of yours. Enjoy the next few months. This peace I'd got for you won't last forever."

I arched a brow. "My 'new man'?"

Benny grinned like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering. "Don't play coy. Richard Grayson. You're living with him now, too."

With a laugh, a smile and a shake of my head I didn't reply. Going Dick after everything had blown up with Sasha had been an impulsive decision. The days spent their after were suspended in a dream. Being around him didn't feel real, not really. It felt more like everything was waiting for me to make a decision, to stay or to move on. But I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave him. I liked the way he made me feel, the kindness in his words, the warmth of his arms. Within them I felt safe, like Vandal Savage couldn't hurt me.

But it was a dream nonetheless and eventually you had to wake up.

* * *

 **Sasha's** right eye was swollen over, making it hard to concentrate on anything as she was dragged down a sterile hall. The air reeked of bleach, which burned her nose and left a bitter taste on her tongue. She was dimly aware of two hands curled painfully around each bicep, their nails digging into her skin. With each step they took, the resounding thump jarring in her ears – yet still clear enough that she could count it. It was the only thing she could focus on. Twenty steps before they stopped again. A door opened. Four more steps before the door closed. The walking continued for fifty more steps before another door opened, someone pushed her and she felt them lift her up. She was laid down, then the door clicked shut. The hands were gone.

She was alone.

It seemed like an eternity as she lay there, her mind straying to the moment she was walking to the apartment after a meeting with Veizner. It had been late, a little before midnight, when a van had screeched up beside her. The sliding door shrieked as it opened, startling her but she hadn't any time to react before they jumped her. Injected her with something until the world spiralled into darkness.

Drawing her mind out of the memory was the sound of someone entering the room. She heard them sit, a chair creaking against the floor.

"Hello Sasha," said a soft, girlish voice. "I know you're feeling _ghastly_ at the moment but I'll make you feel much better. Then we have _much_ to talk about."

There was a rustling of movement and then cool hands against her arm, soft like silk but warm, too. A strange warmth rippled out from her touch, slithering through her arm until her whole body felt light. Free. Then her vision cleared and she could make out the plain white ceiling, the plain walls – and the young dark haired girl sitting next to her. She was smiling at Sasha in that innocent, wide-eyed way.

"W-where am I?"

"Somewhere safe. Providing, of course, you cooperate."

Confusion furrowed in Sasha's dark brow. "Cooperate?"

"Vandal Savage has some questions. It has been a long ten years, after all. There is _quite_ a bit for us all to catch up on. Now, shall we begin?"

* * *

 **Bruce** was baffled and he hated it. Despite all his efforts he hadn't dug up much in the way of incriminating evidence. Every inch of footage he had he'd watched several times, combing through at extremely slow speeds. Primarily that surrounding her apartment she'd shared with the mysterious Sasha, whose files were just as confusing. Some data was faked, clearly but other information rang with an air of truth. The footage, unfortunately, shed little light. He watched as the regular folk came and went, following a routine he'd carefully jotted down. After a week he knew all the residents, their routines, every inch of their lives. Even down to the speeding fine that Mrs Walter on the top floor apartment had gotten last week in downtown Gotham. No stone had been unturned, yet there was still a maddening shadow hanging around Meghan Willoughby and her much older sister, Sasha, who bore very little physical appearance.

He pushed back from the desk, rubbing his eyes. In the corner of his eye he watched Alfred approach, impassive, and carrying a tray of food. Sandwiches. Alfred set it down and stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the screen inscrutably.

"My, you have gone into _quite_ the effort to prove the nefarious nature of Miss Willoughby," murmured Alfred.

He glanced at Alfred, one brow up. "You think I'm overdoing it?"

"I fear that if you pry too much you risk losing Master Richard in the process. From all reports he is quite besotted with the girl," replied Alfred gravely, worry touching his wise old eyes.

Bruce shook his head. "He'll see the truth."

"I'm afraid that he is young, Master Bruce. Head strong and very emotional when it comes to people he cares about. Oh, you have this idea he's as cold and stoic as you but this life has not hardened him as it has you – not yet. I only ask you tread carefully when you bring all this out. Done wrong and you will lose him forever."

As Alfred went away Bruce was left staring at the screen. Meghan Willoughby stared back at him, and that _look_ in her eyes. He swore she was taunting him.

 _I'll tear everything you care about apart and you won't be able to do a thing. Watch me burn it all._


	15. Chapter 15

" _You know what happens if you do this?" The young man shouted in anguish at the girl before him. "You won't be you anymore."_

 _She touched his tear stained cheek with a tenderness that sent him trembling. "I know that but when I wake I will be free. I won't be sick anymore. I'll be good and strong and most importantly I can help save our people. Give them a future."_

" _By losing yours?" He roared._

 _Anger touched her eyes and she flung her arms out. "Look around! Our people are dying. We will be extinct within a decade. But I can change that. I can change that – I_ will _change that."_

 **Chapter 15 Secret**

 **I** was restless. Thoughts gnawing, feet wearing tracks into the ground, the walls closing in. Everything about the apartment that had once been initially quite charming felt suffocating – too white, too _familiar._ After a fitful night of sleep, nightmares of indecipherable images that swallowed me whole, I woke up feeling vicious and restless. Dick had left before dawn, free of my wrath – but I wanted him back. If only to scream at him, yell and fight. Feel something other than the anxiety that pawed furiously at my head, a burning feeling crawling over my skin like fire.

The Olympia wasn't opening for several more hours and every time I stepped outside I risked being seen – being noticed. Eyes were everywhere in Gotham, not just in the cameras. But in the shadows. In the eyes of beggars and thieves and street walkers. Even in the well dressed, whose fine suits and fancy cars hid a variety of sins. Giving up Glitch meant also scaling back my own time as Max and Meg, at simply hiding.

And I hated it.

The anger seethed through every pore, turning the whole world a shade of red – a prison of fury. I stalked towards the kitchen but spun away. Too many sharp things. But I made it no further than the lounge room on my way back to the bathroom when a wave of energy surged through me, sending me crumpling to the ground. Images flashed before my eyes; a sky full of glittering stars, a white room, a young dark haired girl. Each lingered with pulsing clarity, like a second pulse behind my eye, then passed with agonising swiftness; the next sweeping on, leaving no break, no time to gather my own thoughts, before it continued. Round and round like a sick merry go round, no end in sight.

I howled and writhed, a beast unchained, and struck something. Something glass-like shattered, splinters of light splashed across my vision. My hand swept out in ragged fury, shards slashing my hand. Pain lanced up my arms, slicing every inch of my frayed nerves. No inch of skin left free of pain, nothing untouched.

Eventually, the visions dissolved, the pressure easing. Left staring at the plain ceiling, my own thoughts held together by thin twine – so delicate, so easy to _snap –_ I tried to steady my ragged breaths, my lungs expanding to the point of pain. Every inch of me still tingled, feeling detached, as though the limbs were scarcely my own. I summoned back a fraction of energy, which slithered through me slowly, too afraid to beckon more, to risk sending me hurtling over the edge – again. Yet even that effort left me drained, weary.

It seemed like an eternity laying there, the sounds of the apartment surrounding me like a feint and terrible orchestra, before I found the strength and wobbled to my feet. I caught myself on the wall and staggered into the bathroom, flicking on the tap. My hand was shaking as it caught the jet of water and splashed a little on my face.

Yet as I looked up I saw another face, right beside my own. A dark haired girl. Like the one from the vision but older, her dark silvery eyes harder, unkind. She stared at me, her lips a thin line. Yet slowly, after an achingly long moment, her lips twisted into a feint, ghost-like smile and her eyes began to glow with excitement.

 _Not much longer now,_ she whispered; though her lips beckoned no sound, I heard it all in my head. A dull whisper, as if through a glass wall.

It wasn't fear I felt when I stared back, not confusion or even the urge to scream.

I felt _shame_ and an overwhelming darkness rushing towards me, waiting to swallow me whole.

* * *

 **Bruce** stood as Batman on the top of an old apartment block, cloaked by shadow and the blindspot of the only nearby camera on the adjacent building. The air nipped at his chin, at what little skin was exposed beneath his suit. It didn't bother him, though. The cold welcomed him, the darkness an old friend, an ally. He glanced at the time on the display on the inside of his mask. Patience calmed him where irritation would've once gnawed and nipped, biting at his thoughts.

It did well as the door to the rooftop opened and a small, blonde woman dressed in a black trench coat. She looked about expectantly and when she saw him she didn't jump with fright; instead, she smiled and fished out a manila folder. As she crossed the space between him she held it out, then stepped back as he took it.

"You know, I didn't exactly expect you to contact me. Superman, yes, but you? It was unexpected to say the least," said the woman with a smile; her eyes darkened, her lips thinning. "I found what you asked."

"Faster than I expected, Miss Sullivan," he murmured.

She studied him warily. "The information wasn't easy to come by. I had to dig up some old debts. Made _quite_ a few people touchy, digging around this stuff."

"Did someone go after you?"

One nod. "Yeah but I'm okay. All I can say is there is stuff about those experiments people are very keen to keep quiet about. From what I got, which was barely scratching the surface of the whole program, this stuff could change the world. You want to know the scariest part?"

"What?"

"That file and that footage is ten years old. From a couple people I reached out to there's rumours that stuff is still happening. I have to admit though, the things they did. It makes me sick." She looked to the city, her voice softening. "They were just _kids_." After a breath she looked back at him. "Do I want to know what you're going to do with this?"

He stared back. "No."

She sighed but wasn't surprised. With a silent nod and goodbye she walked off, vanishing back the way she came. Alone, he opened the file and peered at the face of a child staring back at him. A frozen image from a camera, the last look of her before she vanished into the world. A dark eyed child looking back at the hallway painted with blood; those wild, wild eyes and a face splashed with blood.

* * *

 **In** the darkness of the cave the only source of light came from the glaringly bright computer screen, splashed with the footage from the lab. Bruce studied it closely. The lab was virtually the same as the one he and the others had rescued Cyborg from. Even the cells that the girl ran past on her escape were the same. Glitch was protecting the survivors of these labs but who _were_ the survivors? He knew better than anyone that places like that changed people, it broke them, shredded them their mind until there was very little left. The question was who was the girl?

Was it Glitch? Or another one of the victims, driven crazy by the experiments?

He leaned back in his chair. After asking Chloe to look into the labs run by Phillip Foster. When she found nothing on that he got her to look into Vandal Savage and his associates. There, she'd found a man with the same face as Foster, bearing another name. A fake, likely. Using her contacts – names he didn't look into, didn't _want_ to know, couldn't for the sake of several things – she'd dug up some sparse files on some on a lab that had matched what he described. Tests on those with similar talents; aliens, Meta humans and magicians alike. All of whom shared that one common affinity with technology.

There hadn't been any concrete evidence that said it _was_ the lab, that it was connected at all. Nothing court worthy but enough that steered him on, that pulled at his gut and told him that he was right. But there were plenty of unanswered questions. Things Glitch had omitted carefully when she asked for their 'help', though he knew she only wanted access to their data base. He took note of everything she looked at, tried to understand what she was searching for and why. How it tied to the labs, to the victims she described but wouldn't name. He wondered if Dick knew, since she'd reached out to him first and if she'd supplied a file. A list of names, the people she's seemingly trying to save from a mysterious shooter. A shooter that may or may not even exist but if the shooter doesn't exist, why the need for the data base?

He got up from his chair and removed his suit, setting it aside to be repaired and cleaned later. Alfred had left him a fresh shirt and pants, pressed and clean. Once he changed he locked up the computers and went upstairs, then into his garage, where he got in one of his cars.

There was something he had to see.

* * *

" _ **Please**_ _, won't you wait? Won't you stay? At least until the sun goes down. When you're gone, I lose faith, I lose everything I have found…"_

On stage Meghan sang, acting flawless, looking genuinely pleading as she sang. Her voice soft, curling with a feint accent. It was easy to see why Dick had been enamoured by her. Bruce watched her performance, cloaked in shadows, far from her gaze. Yet as her voice slowly faded, the lights dimming, her gaze swept the crowd as she smiled and said her thanks to the crowd.

For a moment, however, her gaze lingered right where he sat.

With a graceful bow she retreated, vanishing behind the velvet red curtains. After that more singers came and went, performances flowed on one after another. Turning to the bar he finished his drink and ordered another. If she'd seen him then he knew-

"I didn't expect you here," said Meghan, sliding onto the seat next to him. "I thought you'd already decided you didn't like me."

He glanced at her, a jacket over her dress, her face glittering from sparkling makeup. Beneath the soft, powdery light, she looked like something else, not quite human. Her eyes watched him far more calmly than he expected, measuring almost. Guarded.

"Who are you Meghan Willoughby?"

Her eyes clouded over and she inched back from him a fraction. Turning from him she ordered a drink and didn't speak until she had it in front of her, had her slender hands curled around the glass.

"I have no idea, Mr Wayne but if you do find out you'll tell me, won't you?" She downed the drink and peered at him curiously. "I've lived my life as best as I can, be as _good_ as I can but honestly? The only good part about my life is Dick. He's what keeps me together, makes waking up in the morning worth it."

"You love him." A statement.

She blinked and looked away, something dark flickering in her eyes. "Why are you here, Bruce? Bribe me to stay away? Threaten me?"

"I want to understand."

In a flash she pinned him with a cutting look. "You want to find proof that I'm some gold digger, and that I'm just _using_ Dick for some selfish gain but I'm not. I wasn't lying when I said he's the only thing that keeps me sane in this messed up city."

* * *

 **Sasha** stared at the plain white wall, willing herself far away, somewhere warm and safe. Her wrists, caked with blood from the wounds made by her chains, trembled in her lap. No matter how much she drove her hands in her folded lap, trying to still them, they only continued to tremble. The searing memories of the _little_ chats made her heart race, her skin slick with sweat. They'd come for her soon. The chats were like clockwork, the same routine every time. In the end they'd drag her back, limp and withdrawn, and leave her shackled to one side of the room. There just enough room in her chains for her to reach the toilet at the end of the room but not enough for the bed; for that she had to wait until they came again, the visits in between the chats, to move her to bed. She'd stay chained to that section of the room until they came to take her for the visits.

Eventually they came, beckoned by the click of the door opening and the soft patter of shoes against the floor. Instinct roared inside of her as she immediately scrambled as fast as her chains allowed, as far as she could go, and howled with animalistic fury. Hands clamped down around her arms and feet. She spat and thrashed and screamed until she was thrown down on the bed. There, she felt them strap her down, yanking until the straps were starting to cut off the blood flow. She howled and wrestled but it was no use. There was no escape.

The guards left, leaving the same woman from the _chats_ alone with her. She sat down on the single white chair beside the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles of her skirt. Her slender, long fingers swept over several more times, then knitted together in her lap as she looked up with her calm, intelligent eyes.

"You've been resistant," she murmured softly. "It's making things so much harder for you."

Sasha stared up at the ceiling. "It'd be boring any other way."

"It is so good to see you have retained your humour. I suppose we'll have to take that, too. Tomorrow, I think." She raked her icy eyes up and down, settling a breath later. "We're going to try something new. For now, however, I have some simple questions. No punishment this time, I _promise_."

* * *

" **You're** not crazy. You're not crazy. You're not-" I cut myself off and push myself away from the bench, my heart racing.

Faint whispers floated around my ear, teasing, _mocking._ Voices I didn't recognise, yet softly touched with a flicker of familiarity. So weak that it's barely registered. I tried to push them out, ignore them as best as I could as I strode through the bedroom, into the hall. There, they simply grew louder. A normal conversation.

 _I heard she's escaped. We have to get out, Max. If she sees us…_ A male voice pleaded anxiously, though no one was within the hallway.

There was a pause before another voice came. _I think I know- wait! No! Chris, run! Go before it's-_

A terrifying scream tore through my head, choked with dread and fear. Black and heavy, pulsing through my veins. Thick as sludge. Weighing me down. The walls closed in, the doors vanishing from sight and the world took on a shade of white. The burning smell of bleach struck my nose, followed closely by a wave of something harsh and metallic. _Blood._ Nausea curdled in my gut.

The feeling swept on, an uneasy relief in my chest settled. The voices returned.

 _Please! Don't hurt me. I have a husband and two babies. Please, they need me. Please don't-_

The voice of a woman was cut off abruptly, her words choked. An audible _thump._

 _I had a family too,_ came another voice – calm, clinical. Dead.

Confusion and panic burst through me.

 _It was me._

I looked down at my hands. They were slick with blood. And sprawled at my feet…

A woman. Her head had been ripped clean from her shoulders.


	16. Chapter 16

" _Let me see him!" The older girl screamed, slamming her clenched fists against the old door. "I can see you, Matem! You will let me see him now!"_

 _There was no reply._

 _The girl sunk to her knees, pressing her forehead against the wood. "Please. Just let me see him._ Please."

 _There was no reply._

 **Chapter 16 Bound**

 **Gotham** had a penchant for blackmail. It bred it into people, made folk desperate to claw and betray and lie. Do anything they could to better themselves, save themselves, destroy their enemies. No care for the price; or, at least, the cost deemed small, the risk acceptable. Lives become just another factor in some big game.

When Batman called I knew that he had something on me. From the moment we met he'd decided I was something akin to Vandal Savage, a creature born of the savagery of the lab. Once an innocent child, now a monster, a wolf in sheep's clothing. And he was determined to tear the wool from my back, expose me, lay bare all of my secrets. Air it like dirty laundry.

The problem was my secrets were spilling from locked chests in my mind, flooding my thoughts with memories I don't recall, and feelings I suspected I'd buried for a reason.

As I sat on the edge of the rooftop, my legs dangling over the edges, I allowed myself to surrender my ears to the sounds of the city. Loud, raucous, a cacophony of sound, yet in its own way, utterly beautiful. It was the only city that sounded like it, the only one that felt _really_ alive. Out of every city I'd lived in Gotham was the only place that felt like it could be home – if I was a different person, if I was everything I currently wasn't.

"Glitch." The baritone voice of Batman, grizzled by his modulator, cut through the noise and drew me back to reality.

As my eyes flickered open I slowly let the world refocus, the senses sharpen. I slowly eased myself back off the edge then got to my feet, turning slowly. A few feet away Batman stood cloaked in shadows. The mask of menace and danger. Little wonder crooks quaked in their boots and howled with fear. In the dark air of Gotham he didn't seem like a knight – that implied some sort of ethereal heroism about him. He seemed more like a nightmare, a poltergeist conjured from fear.

But I'd had my fair share of monsters. I wasn't afraid. Not of him, anyway.

"You called, I came. To what do I owe the company of the city's infamous Dark Knight?" I tried to keep the unease from my voice but an edge was there instead.

He held out an arm, a digital display sprung up and a video began to play. I saw an empty hallway first, then a girl sprinted along, _covered in blood._ She stopped suddenly and spun on her heel, staring down the way she'd come. Her chest heaved raggedly and she seemed wobbly on her feet. She stiffened suddenly, then held out a hand, a flattened hand. Blood sprayed from an unseen source, splattering against the ground. Nausea clenched in my chest.

As the girl turned Batman zoomed in on her face, on those wild grey eyes and that fierce expression. Above the screen he watched me, no doubt studying every facial twitch, every response.

"Is she one of your victims?"

Ignoring the double meaning I shook my head. "No." Though the little fact that Nightwing _hadn't_ passed on the list I gave him was rather interesting. If Batman had it he would've looked at the names I gave, all apart from one being real and legitimate, he would've known the girl in the video was _not_ one of the names I gave. And I'd been quite clear those at risk were _all_ of the survivors. I hadn't even suggested there were others. Adding another lie to the story seemed unnecessary.

Truthfully, I had no idea who the girl was.

"I've been looking into the labs, Glitch," he explained calmly. "I have some questions." When I gestured a hand for him to go on he took a step forward. "You say you have never killed but what of the others? Can you say that the time in the lab didn't _change_ them?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Of course it _changed_ them. Some more than most of course. As for what some of them may or _may not_ have done, I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

A smile tugged at my lips but hidden beneath the mask. "Why did you really ask me here Batman?" I paused for a fraction, then gathered up my courage and continued on. "You want to know if someone on my list is a killer. Someone you're afraid will snap-" I cut myself off, the pieces of a complex puzzle tumbling into perfect arrangement. It took all my strength _not_ to laugh as a newfound awareness dawned. With a step back, I folded my arms. "This conversation is over."

I turned to leave but a hand clamped around my arm, holding me firm. An image burst through my head. Instinct roared. I spun and slammed my palm against his chest, energy exploding from my hands. Batman flew across the rooftop, crashing into an air conditioning unit. I stared at him as he pushed himself to his feet.

"I _said_ this conversation is done. Tell the League the deal is off. I have what I need. Also, don't contact me again – ever."

With a deep breath I summoned my energy, thankful that it seemed to be on the high side, and blinked off that rooftop. Far away. My mind full of new knowledge.

I found myself on another rooftop, thinking of Nightwing, and closed my eyes, smiling into the cold, starlit night.

 _Richard Grayson, you clever little liar._

* * *

 **Black** Canary was silent. After a pause she released the breath she had been holding and glanced at Batman, her lips a thin line. The gears ticked away behind those eyes of hers. Finally, she looked back out the window, to the stars and space beyond.

"You confronted her with that and she ended the deal? Just like that?"

He nodded slowly. "It seemed she's hiding a lot more than we first thought. Though it seems I was correct. She was using us purely to access the data base."

"Yeah but it sounds like you backed her into a corner. It seems like she wanted more."

"She was only able to view half of the data base. I suspect once she'd seen it all she would've left."

Canary nodded grimly and pinched the bridge of her nose, weary. "I suppose all those kids?"

"Real, though likely just regular Meta humans. The footage, however, does indicate that at least one may not be as innocent as we believed. We've been kept in the dark too long with this hacker." Batman moved beside her. "Inform the league of the termination."

"Shall I explain to them _why_ she's cut us off?" Black Canary replied archly.

"That won't be needed. I suspect this won't be the last we hear of Glitch."

Black Canary left him as her comms buzzed. Alone, Batman stared out into space, his own thoughts buzzing. The conversation on the rooftop kept replaying over and over in his head, the details examined, the actions studied. What word had triggered her? Then he knew. Instinct tugged at his gut, followed swiftly by irritation and anger pooling there. He'd severely overplayed his hand, made a mistake. Yet at the same time she'd given herself away, too. If the list was fake, if there was only _one_ real victim, then that abrupt end to the conversation made a lot of sense. The question was, who would get to Dick first?

He turned on his heel and headed to the Zeta tube. J'onn was on watch on the platform above and, seeing Bruce, inclined his head, then resumed his duty. As Bruce stepped up to the Zeta tube he saw on the display panel next to it that barely half a dozen people were on board, the rest down on earth somewhere.

With a final step he vanished into the Zeta tube, the light consuming him whole. As expected he reappeared inside the cave, where Alfred was, mending his other suit by a series of tables. The butler glanced up, one brow imperceptibly lifted, then fell as he resumed his work. Bruce knew he was back early than he'd said, which likely registered with Alfred as the meeting with Glitch and subsequent with Black Canary not going as desired. Wisely, Alfred remained silent and focused on his task.

Bruce focused on his plan. He went to the computer and did a quick scan for Dick's phone. A few seconds later it pinged just outside his apartment in Gotham. It continued to ping, tracking as Dick moved into his apartment. There it remained still. With a deep breath he called Dick and held.

"Bruce, what's up?" Dick said, his voice guarded, wary.

With a deep breath Bruce collected his words. "Dick, are you pulling a Speedy?"

An inside reference to the mole incidence years ago. To anyone else it likely seemed like an inner family joke, a gentle jibe. To Dick, it'd be the silent question – are you alone? Bruce waited, his mind ticking over with plans if Dick wasn't alone, then more if he was.

"No, what's wrong?"

"I need you to come here, _now_."

Dick was silent on the other end of the phone. "Sure. I'm on my way now. Has someone been hurt?"

"No." _But you will be once I talk to you._

But Dick needed to know his girlfriend was _not_ who he thought she was, or what he wanted her to be. That it was unlikely she could ever _be_ what he wanted, or needed.

* * *

 **A** bad feeling had left my gut in knots, the anxiety clawing at my skin and bones, pawing at my heart. After just dropping into _Olympia_ to suss out shifts and change out the old make up, I left, the feeling getting worse as I stepped out the back door. Across the tiny parking lot my bike was parked, which I'd nicked from Sasha's apartment since it seemed like she wasn't using it at all – and I _had_ been the one to buy it with my money, stolen money but mine nonetheless. I tugged my jacket across my body, shivering as a gust of wind sliced across the space, and hurried over. At the bike I quickly packed my bags in the storage beneath the seat, fastening it down with the two little clips. As I pushed it back down I heard the feint patter of footsteps against the ground, my senses instinctively reaching out to the one camera that overlooked the space.

Without turning I saw the lot and saw the man standing fifteen feet behind me, dressed in black, his face hidden from view. He was staring straight at me but, in his hand, I saw something silvery, glinting in the feint sliver of moonlight.

"A knife?"

"The gun proved ineffective last time," came the warbled, almost mechanical reply.

I turned slowly. "Why are you after me? What did I do to you?"

That stopped the old, stooped man, his expression clouding for a moment. "You _still_ don't remember?"

"Remember _what?"_ I bit out, irritation gnawing at my mind.

Deep in my mind however the visions I'd been having flickered to life once more. With a deep breath I shoved them back down, not keen on having a fit right in the middle of fighting off the guy. I'd been stabbed before, years ago – it wasn't an experience I was keen to repeat. Shooting was different – it shocked you, the pain coming later. Stabbing was different; the pain coming faster, sharper. The feeling of skin being sliced, blood and everything else oozing out.

The man never replied.

He shot forward, a blur of movement. I ducked to the side, narrowly missing the sweep of his blade. He spun back, fast, and was on me. Somehow, I ducked and weaved, stepping swiftly out of reach. But I couldn't keep doing it forever.

Leaping around a car I considered calling out but that meant people to worry about, and I didn't know if he'd go after them or ignore them completely.

A surge of nausea swept through me, black dots splashed my vision. Blinking hard I managed to clear a few away but shadows remained. The distraction cost me. The glint of silver was all I saw as the dagger plunged into my gut, flesh pierced, blood spilling out. I howled in agony, stumbling back, blindly trying to evade as he came again.

" _Fight back!"_ He snarled. " _Use the power given to you. Your_ real _power."_

 _What fucking power?_ I wanted to scream in rage, a new fury burning through me – and I welcomed it, the raging inferno to draw my mind from the lancing pain that spiked my body. Somehow I managed to dodge several more blows, a bloody trail tracing the battle. I tried to summon up some power – _any_ power but none responded. Nothing. Not even a smidge to teleport to my bike to escape. A dark thought swam in my head, growing stronger.

 _You're going to die here. All you've done, all you've ever fought for, all of it for nothing._

If I was angry before the next feeling blinded me with a rage I didn't know was possible. All I saw was ready. Hot, violent, purely vicious. _Animalistic._ Instinct. That thought threatened to drag me down but as it tried something inside of me snapped. The recoil sent waves rolling through me as the world flashed out of focus. Became blurry, as if through warped glass.

Yet in the haze of that new world I saw something else. Light. Threads and ribbons, glowing figures. A world made of light, of _pure energy._ Rivers of energy ebbed and flowed, made swirling patterns of currents around me, around the man. Some swept into him, as if it was drawn by him – and that's when I saw it. The real man, the one that stabbed me, was shadowed by something else. A human-like figure of white light, clinging to his back like a second shadow. It' head perched atop the man's head and stared at me. It was familiar.

Memories, long buried, long feared, and long ignored surged up. The experiments came back with horrifying clarity. Just like that I was six years old again, watching in horror as my brother became something else, a creature of pure energy.

I watched as he made a gagged man explode. Nothing remained but a puddle of blood and a steaming pile of mushy flesh and broken bone. I watched as my brother turned to me, expectant.

For a second it seemed to tremble, a strange feeling brushing over me. I knew it, as the feeling took a name and grew clear to me. The figure was _relieved._ But I was too damn angry. The energy inside of me wanted _out._ It strained against the walls I had. So I let it out. The floodgates burst open and everything flooded out.

In that moment, I felt something else take control and I let it.

* * *

 **Dick** was packing a small bag, a precaution he'd learned to take after Bruce's vague calls. When they happened it wasn't good news and over half those times it hadn't hurt to bring a bag with a spare change of clothes. His 'work' uniform, too. He reached for his phone but paused. Meg told him she had work to deal with but hadn't said when she'd be home, only that it'd probably be late. In a combination of exhaustion and stress to get to work he hadn't questioned it.

And now he cursed it. It was the kind of mistake that Bruce would chide him for, the kind that he'd been _trained_ not to make.

With a shake of his head he stuffed the phone into his bag. He'd call her when he got to the mansion. Tell her something. Pray she'd understand. At the back of his mind he reckoned she'd say she was fine with it, then say she had 'work' to attend to anyway. He told himself that it was work at the _Olympia,_ andthat it was nothing else but he knew she had secrets. And at night, when she stirred with fitful nightmares, he wondered what those secrets were – and where she really was half the time. He hated that he didn't pry because he clung to his own secrets, and digging into something that resembled his own, made him feel ashamed.

A knock at the door resounded through the house. He paused. Leaving the bag where it was he went to the front door, wondering if it was Meg and what he'd say – or if it was something else, what they wanted. Especially at that time of night.

His hand hovered over the door handle for a moment before he yanked the door open.

It was Meg, clutching her torso. She was soaked from head to toe in blood, looking at him half in impatience, half in worry. Stunned, he couldn't speak, not even as she slid past him, staggering a little. As he reached for her she shrank away from his touch, as if it was poison, and continued to the living room. She slumped onto one of the chairs at the dining table, stretching out.

"Whose blood is that?"

"Mine, a little. Listen, Dick – _Nightwing_ – I need a med kit, now, before I bleed out all over your floor and then we'll have a nice long chat," she said sharply.

He froze. "What did you call me?"

Her eyes flickered open, locking on him. "It's me, Glitch." Her voice warbled, mimicking Glitch _perfectly._ She heaved herself up to her feet but staggered, then collapsed to the ground. Still. Blood pooling around her.

"Meg! Meg!"

He dropped to his knees and rolled her over. She smiled up at him in that drugged, out of it kind of way.

"The name's Max." Her gaze grew glassy. "I think I'm going to-"

She went limp in his arms.


	17. Chapter 17

" _You'll still go ahead with the procedure?" The woman asked the girl, whom sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall._

 _The girl stirred and looked up. "Yes."_

 _But there was no light in her eyes anymore._

 **Chapter 17 Fugitive**

When I woke I had been stitched up – not expertly but it did the job – but the blood, most of it anyway, was still there. Only the blood around my wound had been cleaned away. I supposed Dick decided not to wash me unconscious. With a wince I hoisted myself out of bed and padded into the shower, setting the water pressure low and the temperature warm. It took some effort as I rubbed the dried blood of. Bit by bit it drained away, swirls of diluted blood pooled around my feet. When I was finally clean, though I swore the stench of blood lingered, I wrapped the towel around me and returned to the bedroom. I changed from the stuff I'd left here and then carefully shuffled out into the living area.

At the dining table Dick was sitting – clearly waiting for me. He looked up, his gaze guarded and cold, unspeaking. Clearly I was to go first. I collected my words and knew what I had to say.

"I know you're Nightwing so deny it, accept it, I don't care. The truth is I am Glitch and my real name is-"

"Max. You mentioned that." His voice remained cool, detached.

I sat on the arm of the couch, a few feet away. "In truth it's the first name I remember having but it's not my birth name. That one I _don't_ know."

"Who _are_ you?" The loaded question sat there for a moment.

"What I told you about the labs was true. I just omitted a few details and for those I had my reasons. To be honest I would've continued on that path but things have changed. I no longer need the league. That little question of the shooter is solved. As for the other mystery of my life I have that answered – sort of. So, due to my change of circumstances, I have business elsewhere. Questions that need answers and something that needs attending to."

He was silent for a moment. "You're leaving Gotham."

"I am and I can't tell you the answers you want – or need. Not now. But I need your help. I can't do the rest of this alone. I can't turn to Sasha, not with the possibility of her decisions getting me captured again…As for anyone else…" I breathed deeply, unaccustomed to asking like this – all of me exposed. "You're all I have left now."

"This is a lot to take in."

I strode back into the room, without waiting to hear his reply. Whilst he decided what he wanted I had to prepare. Gather what little possessions I had. The bike was downstairs, the keys sitting on the bedside table. Dick had likely placed them there when he found them. I stuffed them into my bag, along with all the spare clothes I had, along with what few personal effects scattered about.

When it all fitted snugly into a small back pack I stepped back. It seemed my whole life I'd been able to stuff into a small bag. I guess that came down to the fact I didn't really have much in the way of 'personal effects' – anything I bought I could dump and buy anew, start fresh. Money never an issue.

"You're really going."

I zipped up my bag and looped it over one shoulder, then turned to Dick with a steady expression. He couldn't know how much everything hinged on his decision, how much I _needed_ him. For what it was worth I couldn't let him know, not yet. My walls were down but he didn't need to know that – or, if he did, I wasn't about to advertise and bait him to come in swinging.

"I am."

That room seemed to hold its breath, waiting on a knife's edge for my decision. For his decision. Life was _made_ by decisions. These kinds of decisions. The ones that seemed to so heavily define my life, deciding whether it spiralled into chaos, or went flying up into the unknown.

"I need time."

I glanced at my watch, then back up at him. "You have three hours. I'll be at Gotham Park, parked just north of the Delaney statue. If you don't show I understand but, if you're there…" The words didn't come. Maybe it was because the possibility of him actually coming, of him helping me, didn't seem real. With a deep breath I stepped past him, wincing as I did.

"That wasn't all your blood." A statement, cool, a fact.

Pausing mid step I drew a breath – surprising myself at how steady it was, how _calm_ I was – and turned, looking back at him. The sight of the puddle of blood and ooze sprayed across that parking lot came back to me, the familiarity of it. Shame was there but more a distant voice, smothered by something else. Another force in my mind. I felt that same force as I stared at Dick, a thousand words stuck in my chest, a million thoughts racing through my mind.

"No."

"Did you kill them?"

I stared back, steeling my spine. "Yes."

I left without another word. If he came then he did so knowing I'd killed, that there was blood on my hands. More than I wanted to accept, if the visions were anything to go by. If they were anything trust. As that door closed I felt one part of my life end, the same feeling I had when I'd been captured as a child, then again as I'd escaped the lab.

* * *

 **Dick** was already packed; what he needed to do as the clock ticked down was see someone. The last person he ever expected to talk to again, someone whom he didn't even expect to answer his call. Sitting at likely one of the oldest, dingiest bars in the city, he was surrounded by the rancid stenches and dim, crackling music. Mounted on one wall was a series of old TV's, each stuttering out some form of sport. A group of portly, leathery old men gathered before them, clutching at their phones.

He glanced at his watch. Two hours, fifteen minutes remaining. With his bike parked outside, the time to get _back_ to his apartment, grab the packed bag and get to the park, that left him an hour and fifteen to talk. His phone kept buzzing. Bruce was calling, likely wondering why Dick hadn't come as he said he would. He didn't want to think what the conversation was to be about. For that moment he had to consider whether he was going to follow _Max,_ what it'd mean if he did. What he wanted out of it. Why he'd do it.

Lost in his own mind he'd barely noticed the guy that sat down next to him until a drink was pushed over. He looked up. Jason Todd was smiling wickedly at him, that same devilish grin. The first time he'd met Dick had wanted to punch that smirk off his face. The problem was despite Jason's anger issues the kid was smart and bloody good.

"The last thing I ever expected was _you_ to call me – and in _Gotham_ no less. Last I checked though you weren't running with old daddy, even less that little kiddie squad of yours," said Jason, grinning.

Dick took a deep swig of the drink. "I needed to talk to someone out of the family, out of the League, and someone _not_ civilian."

Jason chuckled. "Oh, this is _priceless._ You _must_ be in trouble."

"Not me. Someone else, though. Someone I care about. Problem is things have changed and they have to leave to get answers."

"And you're thinking about running off with her?"

Dick stilled. "Her?"

The knowing glimmer lit Jason's eyes. "You've always been weak for the ladies, Dick." The look sobered. "There's more to it. You'd never even _think_ about this, just because you _liked_ – or _loved_ – a girl. There's that look in your eyes, the same one Batman got whenever he started on a case. You think she'll lead you to something big, don't you?"

"All I know is she was held prisoner for almost a decade. Now her powers are changing – fast – and she's changing. She's hunting something, or someone." Dick took a deep sip, then set the beer down. "Guess who owned the labs?"

"Who?"

"Vandal Savage."

Jason's eyes widened. " _No way_." The corner of his lips twisted. "Talk about a big fish. You think she'll lead you to him, to something big."

"He's been experimenting on kids like her for years – even today. We found one of the labs a few months ago."

"And the League isn't looking into it?"

"There isn't much to look into. Superman went back to the islands but the labs were gone. Batman tried to find more but he couldn't find any current ones. The only proof we had was the lab we visited and it's gone; so we're left with fragments of proof that they ever existed at all. With all that the case isn't a priority with the League. They've got bigger issues now."

The light in Jason's eyes darkened, anger sparking there. "Typical of the League."

Dick expected to feel defensive but all that came was a silent agreement, the sentiment familiar. The League had more pressing matters. A lab that _had_ happened was the least of their concerns, more so since the only lab they had seen wasn't very active, indicating it was probably shutting down. Likely since it was gone when Superman went there, just a bunch of empty warehouses. He couldn't ask Bruce, since his focus was on proving Glitch was a criminal, that she couldn't be trusted.

"You seem to have made a decision," murmured Jason. Dick met his gaze, his own mind awhirl. _Had he?_ Jason smiled. "I think you made that decision before you even set foot in this bar. It was nice catching up, though. We should do it again, some time. Maybe go clean up the streets afterwards."

Dick grinned and lifted his beer. "Bye, Jason. Look after yourself. Contrary to whatever you think, there are people who do care about you."

Jason threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, don't be stupid." Looking at Dick, he sobered a fraction. "It's a nice delusion, though."

* * *

 **Bruce** paced the cave, glancing at his watch, then at his phone. At all of his communication devices. _Nothing._ Dick hadn't called or made any attempt to signal him. And he was well overdue. Had Glitch sunk her claws into him? He knew he had to get them apart, prove to everyone she was as dangerous as he thought.

And he finally had the proof to at least cause doubt. All he needed was Dick to come and he could solve that headache.

Alfred came down during the pacing and set down a tray of tea. "It seems Master Dick is delayed."

"She has gotten to him." Bruce sighed, sharply. "I should have gone to him myself. He's not at his apartment and he's removed his tracker, as well as disabled my ability to track his phone."

Alfred was silent for a moment, quiet and measuring, careful as always. "Then perhaps you should let Master Dick do what he feels he must. He is, after all, one of the most capable men I know. I should think he is more than able to take care of himself and should he find himself in trouble I imagine he is able to alert you. If he has not sent word in a week then I should say look into the matter. For now, let him go."

 _Let him go._ The words pounded in his head. Every instinct he had told him go after Dick, drag him back. The boy had to see the girl was dangerous. He was, after all, far too blind when it came to a pretty face. He rose, as if to just that, when Alfred's hand fell on his shoulder. It might as well have been Superman's inhuman strength holding him there. Bruce glanced at his butler, a man he'd come to trust more than anyone else in his life. There were things that Alfred knew that no one else did, not even Dick, or any of his Robins. Carefully guarded secrets.

"Leave it be."

All it took was one command and Alfred would be quiet, that he'd push the point no more. It'd be easy. He'd done it before. But the words refused to come. To obey him. With deep, concerted effort, he released the breath he'd been holding – slowly, controlled. He didn't nod, didn't speak.

Sometime later, when he was in office, Alfred came in to say he had a visitor. A young blonde woman. Bruce nodded and Alfred retreated, shutting the door behind him. Scarcely five minutes elapsed before there was a fluttering knock at the door, shortly before it was opened slowly and Alfred held it open, just as the woman in question entered. She flashed Alfred a smile and said thank you as he closed it behind her with a respectful nod. Turning to Bruce, her smile fell away and she strode over, simultaneously fishing something out of her bag. It took her only a moment to get a folder out. She slid it across the desk, then sat down, staring at him, waiting patiently.

Bruce carefully opened the folder and studied it, then shut it and looked up. "You're _sure?_ "

"I had a contact come forward. One I couldn't get anything out of before. I thought you should see that right away." She glanced to the wall of books, her mind starting to wander – to _where,_ he didn't know. "The scientist I spoke with said the young boy showed _exceptional_ growth before his body started to decline. That the blood tests she ran on the girl a month or so ago indicated her body was in the same decline. My guess is whatever they were, they weren't meant to live long."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "The question is, was that by lab design? Or evolution?"

"The scientist seemed to believe there was _some_ discrepancy between the two subjects. The boy's decay seemed as a result of what could be described as a kind of disease, one that had lain dormant in his body. When she went _back_ over his bloods she found traces of it, simply asleep. The girl was different."

"How so?"

Chloe was silent for a moment, then with gathered strength and words, she continued. "Her DNA showed signs of manipulation. That her decay was the result of rushed genetic work. My contact suggested that someone had likely created this girl in a rush to be powerful. Only, now, her power is slowly eating away her body, causing it to become unstable. In her words, the girl is a walking bomb."

* * *

 **The** park was quiet – too quiet. The shadows seemed more ominous that night, harshly thrown from the ancient trees that flanked the twisting paths. From where I sat perched on the bike, everything packed, I could trace the lines of the park. From the cracked angel statues, to the snake-like paths and colossal oaks. All of it, its own little world. I'd miss it and, sitting there, something occurred to me. I was staring at it, trying to memorise every inch of the city, as though I'd never see it again. The thought left me feeling quiet and moody.

I climbed off the bike, needing to stretch out my legs, ease the stiffness that had knotted in my thighs. Not willing to wander far I walked small circles around the park, leaning briefly against the wrought iron fence that enclosed the aging park. Pushing off, I went back to the bike and did a quick inventory of all I had. Which was very little. I knew once I got out of Gotham I'd have to visit an old friend, whom would or wouldn't see me – depending on her fickle mood – and arrange a new life. I could do it – I would – but I'd need her to arrange good quality hard copy fakes, chips and all.

So much to do.

I leant against the bike, glancing at my watch. Ten minutes left and then I was gone. The fact he hadn't come yet left me gloomy and uneasy. Without Sasha I had no one and if I got worse…I needed someone capable, whom could do the leg work if I got too bad. Who I could _rely_ on. Someone to trust. More than that, I knew if I left the city and he didn't come I'd never see him again. That tore at me more than I'd like to admit, left me feeling restless and stricken.

With a deep breath I was about to turn and get on the bike when the distinct rumble of a bike approached. My heart froze in my chest, a nervous flutter danced through my limbs. Summoning a small burst of energy I forced myself to calm, squeeze out the nervousness. Looking up, I saw the dark bike approach, knew it instantly. It stopped and the rider removed his helmet. Dick's brilliant blue eyes met mine.

I climbed on the bike and slipped on my helmet, the visor up. "Keep up."

As I slammed the bike down I saw him do the same. I shot off down the street, the howling fury of his bike close behind, as we raced off through the city and beyond.

The final road stretched before me.

 **END OF PART 1**


	18. Chapter 18

**[For reference Dick is approx 24-25 in this story line, Jason around 21 – creative licence has been taken in several aspects. Attempts have been made to remain true to Jason Todd's character – or as I believe he would be in the following story.]**

 _The girl stared at the tiny child sitting on the step beside her, at her hands in her lap, and her intense dark eyes focused on the stars._

" _You know what this procedure will mean?" She asked the tiny girl._

 _The tiny girl looked to her, calm – eerily so. "I'll go away." Her gaze returned to the stars. "That's okay, though. I won't be sad like you. I'll be free."_

 _The older girl followed her gaze to the stars. She wasn't sad. The tiny girl was wrong. She was angry. There was a darkness inside of her that wouldn't be quiet, a monster that was hungry._

 **PART 2: CRIMINAL**

 _ **Three months later**_

 **Chapter 18 Reversal**

 **It** was a trap. Not the fun kind, which are easily escaped, nor the very hard, which for one fleeting moment you are actually at risk of dying. No, it was the kind of trap which, though easily escaped at first, kept presenting problems. All in all, it was the third kind of trap, the annoying kind. And oddly enough, Glitch – no, _Max_ – seemed to be relishing every second of it.

Bullets sprayed behind Dick as he dove down a branching off hallway, Glitch already next to him, breathing hard. She turned to him, wearing her usual doll mask, and chuckled.

"Having fun?"

"For once, no."

That set her off. Occasionally, it was frustrating but he reigned in any reprimand. With her power in such a flux days when she was strong enough to do a mission, let alone _walk_ unaided, he learned to just roll with her eccentricities brought about by the high of her power. They were the days he tried to savour most.

They were too few in the past few weeks.

"At least we got what we came for," she said, sobering. "That _is_ something."

He nodded. It _was_ something. After all the setbacks, the failures and betrayals, it was the most they'd had. Finally, they had a name and a place. An actual address, not just the name of a city.

Another hail of bullets sprayed. Max leapt forward, one hand catching his chest. He stilled. Even with her gloves he felt the warmth of her touch, the rush of energy that shot through him. It had startled him at first but it didn't bother him anymore.

"Come on. I have a way out," she said, grabbing his hand.

Nodding, he ran off down the hallway, turning another corner and leaping down a flight of stairs, just as more bullets followed. Max suddenly stopped and spun on her heel, pointing her palms out – in a flash energy exploded out, a beam of light. The world basked in white light, too bright to watch. All Dick could make out as the vague shape of Max as she turned back and ran past him. He ran off, not letting him think if anyone had been killed by the blast. It was a thought for another time.

She dashed ahead of him to a door and blew it away, turning back to the doorway as he came through. Raising her hand she set the door back and melted the edges, sealing it. Stepping back, she stared at it for a moment, ready to give another blast if anything came through. When nothing came she turned to him.

"We better head back. I'm not ready to stick around."

"Agre-"An explosion of energy burst through the door – it flew open, sending Max flying against the wall. Energy slammed into him, sending him tumbling back. White splashed across his vision, stars dancing chaotically. The world fell away, blood roaring in his ears. He clumsily forced himself to his feet, every inch of him battered and bruised. Yet the second he stood his legs buckled beneath him, sending him down to his knees. He bit back a grunt of pain and looked up, pain throbbing behind his eye.

A figure in black stood before Max, one hand curled around Max's neck, pinning her up against the wall. Max writhed, clawing and trying to push them back. Energy splintered from her fingers, shards shooting harmlessly about.

Men rushed at him. He tried to jump up to fight but pain tore through him as someone shot him with a taser him. White fire lanced through his limbs as they spasmed, quivering with such a violence he had no control. Like a ragdoll he crumpled to the ground, barely strong enough to look up as they dragged him up. He could only watch in horror as the life was squeezed from her.

" _Glitch!"_ He cried hoarsely. " _Fight!"_

She froze. Her hands didn't fall limp at her side; instead, they remained clutching at the dark figure. For what seemed like an eternity she remained frozen, the world holding its breath as it waited for her to move – then she exploded into light.

Blinded, his senses flooded with things it couldn't recognise – sensations beyond understanding – he lost all sense of time. Just as quickly as the feeling it came, it vanished, and he fell to his feet. Colour returned to his vision, the world taking shape around him, as his mind cleared and his hearing returned. Slowly, at first, then a rush of noise. Someone stood before him, glowing softly. He forced himself to look up.

Max stood before him – mask in one hand, the other outstretched. Glowing. He looked from the hand to her face, saw those eyes study him. Numb, he looked beyond her, to the bodies strewn across the ground.

"They're not dead," she said softly, her voice softer – like another person completely was speaking. She retracted her hand briefly and glanced back at them. "I could kill them but you would be abhorred by that. She wouldn't like that." Leaving no time for him to answer she looked back at him, her hand there once more, and said: "As she weakens I'll be able to come out more often. I don't have time to explain everything – for now, all I can say is you must go to the house and speak to the woman whose name you learnt. Be careful, though. All isn't as it seems."

As he took her hand she stiffened for a second. Her face clouded over, then a bewildered expression took over. She stared at him, confused, her brow furrowed.

"What happened?"

* * *

 **Bruce** strode through the top floor of Wayne Tech, irritated after another board meeting. With nothing dire happening, the stocks fairly healthy and the company performing as expected, he'd _hoped_ that having Lucius Fox would be enough to keep the board happy. Give _him_ enough space to work away from the prying public eye for a bit, focus more on finding Dick – wherever he was. Aside from a few scattered reports and scanty bits of information, all he knew was that Dick and _Glitch_ were moving from city to city – and fast. Breaking into labs, hacking sites with seemingly unrelated topics and conversing with a variety of criminals. Everything that Glitch had done before she met Dick; only now she'd dragged him into whatever game she was playing, hunting whatever she was really after.

If only _he_ could damn well figure out what it was.

As he reached his office his assistant stood up. "Mr Wayne?"

He glanced at her – what was her name, again? She was new. Christie, was it? No, she'd been a blond. This one was a pixie sized black haired girl with Japanese features. That's it, he realised.

"Yes, Aiko?"

"Mr Todd is waiting for you in your office, just like you said. Though he is an hour early." She shifted nervously on her feet for a moment. "Sir – he's been drinking."

Bruce sighed and nodded. He gestured for Aiko to sit down and, relieved and thankful, she hurried back, watching him as he strode in. As she said Jason was in his office, sprawled out across a very expensive black leather couch. Dressed in a faded red shirt, a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, he looked just as Bruce expected. It was also clear he'd been drinking, going off the smell and that glossy look in his eyes. Jason met his scrutinising stare and grinned like a Cheshire cat, a mad gleam in his eyes. For a moment Bruce contemplated kicking him out, as asking him to come had been a mistake – of course, a part of him had wondered if Jason would even come. Even after all these years, after everything Bruce had done, and failed to do.

"I came as called," said Jason in a sing song voice. "Aren't I so obedient? Aren't you proud?"

Bruce expected the goading and refused to play into it, to allow himself to be riled up. "I asked you here to talk about Dick."

For a second – just one – something flickered in Jason's eyes. It was gone before Bruce had a chance to figure it out. A languid smile stretched across Jason's face.

"I _heard_ little birdy flew the nest with a dangerous little vixen. Worried another one of your children has gone _bad?"_ Jason mocked, scorn dripping from his lips.

"Dick spoke to you shortly before he left. What about?"

Jason tilted his head. "Said he was sick of living in your shadow. That he realised he wanted more. Don't be so surprised. I hear even little Timmy is getting sick of your rules."

Bruce bit back a retort. Tim _had_ been showing the same signs Dick had when he decided to leave and become Nightwing, only Tim didn't seem to want to be a hero anymore. It was a conversation for Tim and him, not for one with Jason.

"Dick is in way over his head," said Bruce patiently.

Jason stood up, swaying for a second. "Then I'm sure he'll get himself out of it."

As Jason went to leave a question struck Bruce. "Why did you come, if you weren't going to help? I suspect you knew what this chat was going to be about."

Jason glanced back at him, a thin smile on his mouth at that moment, a shadow in his gaze. "Truthfully? Guess I wanted to get some pleasure out of the fact you're losing your favourite little Robin. It's refreshing."

Bruce stared back, undaunted. "You never were one for lies. Not about this."

Jason chuckled. "I've changed and so has your protégé."

Frustrated, Bruce could only watch as Jason walked away.

* * *

 **Waking** up was the worst part after a good day. Every inch of me felt drained, like I'd been on a marathon – and half of it I couldn't even remember. What I did know is that I had snapped – again – and that Dick had seen. He'd been so quiet afterwards that I was afraid to ask what he'd seen, to know what I'd done. There hadn't been any blood on me but I knew what the other part of me could do.

I stared at the mirror, at the gaunt girl glaring back. Sickly, grey. Weak. Growing weak from standing too long I went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Even that took strength. All I wanted to do was curl back under the sheets but there was a conversation that had to be attended to. To ignore it would be worse.

After a little while I gathered up my strength and grabbed my cane, testing my weight on it before I headed to the kitchen. Dick was on his laptop, sitting on the stool. His back was to me but I knew he sensed me. His shoulders stiffened a fraction; imperceptible to anyone else but to me it may have well have been a big neon sign saying 'THE MONSTER HAS ARRIVED'. Rationally, I knew he wouldn't really be thinking that but my heart thought otherwise. Paranoia clawed at my mind, leaving me silent until he finally turned.

To my surprise he seemed to examine me with a worried expression. "How is it today?"

"I'm able to walk but I don't see myself going out today. We could try tomorrow to see if I'm feeling better and go to the orphanage," I said, though I knew there was every chance I'd be in _no_ condition to do anything like that.

He nodded. "You shouldn't strain yourself."

"I won't," I said with a little more edge than I intended.

"I'm just trying to keep you alive," he said with equal bite.

I looked away. We both knew I was only getting worse, that this likely ended with me dead. Soon, too. None of us said it though. What was the point?

"What do you remember about last night?"

Slowly, warily, I looked back. "The chat, the escape. Things are blank after we got out."

"I think I can explain why you don't remember whenever you 'blackout' – it seems you're sharing that body with someone else," he said slowly, watching me with wary eyes.

My first instinct let laughter from my lips. "What? Like a split personality?"

" _Maybe,_ " he conceded. "It can explain the memory loss and you were kept prisoner for almost a decade, tortured endlessly-"

"I know. I was _there_ – I don't need the reminder," I said stiffly, old memories stirring like a hive of wasps.

Pain flashed in his eyes for a split second, sinking behind a grim, resolved expression. "I know." His voice was soft, understanding. "This does change things though – well, how we handle everything. Though your other half did seem interested in not leaving a trail of bodies."

The thought of another personality hiding in the shadows of my mind, out of my own awareness, was chilling. Someone that, at any moment, would rip what little control I had away from me. That I'd be put away in the dark, not even able to remember whatever was done with _my_ hands. I tried to turn my power inwards, sift through everything inside of me to _find_ that other person. Destroy them, if possible. Unfortunately, there was nothing but the tumultuous rapids of my energy.

"I'm not crazy," I whispered, meeting his gaze. "I'm _not_."

Dick was before me before I even registered it, his hands on my shoulders, his gaze meeting my own. "Don't you _ever_ think that. This does change things but only how we work. It doesn't change _this_." With that, he kissed me.

I didn't realise how much I needed it – needed him – until I kissed him back, a little surge of strength returning. If only for a little while. My arms wrapped around him, hands slipping beneath his shirt, running over firm, scarred muscle. He shivered beneath my touch, his own hands dropping lower until I found myself hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist. Heat flooded my core as he led us awkwardly back through the apartment, lips scarcely apart, my own hands roaming. Fire roared between us, scorching bare skin and as I met the cushion of a mattress, I stared up at him.

Looming over me, half on the bed, he stared down, his gaze intense and questioning. We hadn't gone down _this_ road before, namely for a multitude of reasons and poor timing. Looking up at him, though, at those molten blue eyes, I wondered why the hell I'd waited so long.

I reached up and dragged him to me, skin to skin, lips to lips, and everything else became a distant thought.

* * *

 **It** was the sound of footsteps that tormented Sasha at night. Or what she thought was night. There weren't any windows, no way to mark time, aside from the meals that came – and no way to prove they were being delivered irregularly to ruin any attempt she made to figure out the days. So it was only her day was broken by footsteps; that either beckoned food or _chat time._ Each time left her clawing at the walls, anxiety shredding her fraying mind apart.

They restrained more effectively when they left her alone now and moved rooms. They found her several attempts to end everything _inconvenient._ Like she was lashing out for no reason.

As she heard them once more she could only try and brace her mind. The door opened. As per usual routine two guards entered and strapped her down; though she could shuffle to the tiny toilet they gave her she stayed most of the time in her chair, too weak to do much else.

In predictable fashion they wheeled her out into the stark white hall that reeked of bleach. It always did when another one of her neighbours – one of the many souls trapped – left. The smell tended to fade after a while or so. Once they passed into another area, one of many doors and locked rooms, and several labs, the smell become something else – chemical-like but hard to name. When she is wheeled into a familiar white room – _the_ questioning room – and saw that it was void of all the familiar 'questioning' tools, she was confused. Relieved, though she was very careful to hide _that_.

The guards moved out of view but the brief sound of their footsteps indicated they hadn't left the room. She reckoned if she turned – if she even could – that they'd be standing at the door, armed. Ready to act if she escaped. If she suddenly became strong and broke free of the restraints and the drugs in her system. _Ha._

There was a whirring sound, followed by the soft muted footsteps of one person. Within a few seconds her questioner appeared. _Dr Margo._ It had taken thirty six 'chats' to get that.

"Hello Sasha – how are you feeling today?"

"I am well."

"Good, good. I know we've had such hard talks lately but you can't be too upset. Our current methods were because we thought you were human. Now had you informed us of what you were a Chimaera things might've been different. Unfortunately, as it stands, it's a bit late to do what we wanted originally. So we've decided on a new tactic, for you see, we really need to find your friend – _now._ " She flashed a warm smile. "Shall we begin?"


	19. Chapter 19

**[Questions have been raised as to why there is the Dick/Meg 'ship' – this was done intentionally, for later plot reasons, and other 'candidates' would've been odd in said circumstances. This decision will make more sense later.]**

 _She stared at the field of graves, then down at the fresh one before. Just a polished white stone dome, a glowing crystal pulsing softly. The only whisper of light left. She clenched her fist, biting back a sense of fury and grief – a dark wave looming closer, ready to swallow her whole._

" _You_ left _me," she seethed. "You promised you'd live, that when I came back we'd go on together. We'd be okay." She paused for a moment, then went on softly. "Oh, surely you heard though, the elders said I'd survive the process – only the girl would be burned away. That I could move on with them."_

 _Inside of her the energy swelled and tossed about, thrashing against her walls. She could tear this damnable field apart, remove every trace of the dead – they'd all be forgotten when their people moved on anyway. What was the_ point _of burying the dead, as if they could be mourned like that forever?_

 _She released a jagged breath. "I have_ nothing _left and it's all your fault."_

 **Chapter 19 Orphan**

 **It** wasn't _really_ a shock for Benny when Batman appeared in his apartment, half cloaked in shadows. As if to scare Benny. The thought made him want to laugh but experience kept him quiet. He set his bag down on the dining table and flicked on the light, which exposed the hero. To the man's credit he didn't move.

"Well, well, well, what do I have the _pleasure_ of Batman's esteemed company of?"

Batman was silent for a moment; then: "How did you come to work with the hacker called Glitch?"

Benny wondered if Batman knew of his silver-tongued talent. It'd be easy to send the man on his way but if he'd come prepared, then Benny would betray his talent, and look foolish. With this hero, he had to play his cards carefully.

"She came to me a few years ago with a proposition. I gave her names, places of nefarious little labs, any information she desired, and she paid me – handsomely. Unfortunately, the girl has since departed my company. A shame, really, she was _so_ profitable," said Benny as he went over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch.

"She's been in Gotham this time?"

Benny took a sip and shook his head. "No, she comes and goes as she pleases. I don't make a habit of tracking her."

Batman stared, sceptical. Benny didn't need to see his face to know that he didn't believe Benny. Ironically, it was the truth. He didn't track Glitch, mainly because the girl had the power to shred his empire apart – to do a lot of damage. There was no point having a girl like that as an enemy, not when she was quite determined to attend to her own mission. Had she been greedy, with her eyes on _his_ job, he may have acted a little differently. As it was, he liked their agreement.

"You have eyes everywhere in Gotham, ears at every corner and you don't know where she is?"

Benny chuckled. "That girl is _not_ worth having as an enemy. I give her space, she comes back frequent enough with money that there isn't a need." He set the glass aside and turned fully to the hero. "The girl is the definition of a ghost. If she doesn't want to be found, you won't find her – period."

"You have the resources, find her."

Benny arched a brow – oh, he knew he ought to be quaking in his boots, but he'd faced creatures far worse. Since Batman didn't kill, all he could dish out was pain – physical and psychological. Benny had weathered his fair share of that for years before he'd come into his nature, learning the extent of his power.

"And make an enemy of her?"

"You should be afraid of me."

Benny smiled thinly. "I have a healthy respect of you but I'm not afraid. Only because I've dealt with horrors beyond your imagination. After that, everything else tends to be dull." A thought occurred to him at that moment, so he leaned forward with an almost Cheshire-like grin and said: "Though, to be honest, you're so convinced you know her – that you know her past and her pain. If you did, you wouldn't be here. It's why your little friend is with her now. Because he _knows_ the truth of her and even if she left I imagine he'd be able to find her easily with that knowledge. I mean, why do you think she keeps so few in her inner circle? It's always just one."

* * *

 **When** I woke up I was alone, the bed cold beside me, and the apartment quiet. For a long while I lay there, ears strained, waiting for the inevitable noise indicating life. When it didn't come I frowned and slowly eased myself out of bed, a little sore and stiff, wincing as my feet struck the icy floor.

 _Note to self, buy an apartment with underfloor heating,_ I thought as I padded into the living room, wearing little more than a baggy shirt. One of Dick's – I think. I flicked on the central heater, dialling up the temperature until I was happy. It'd take a while to take the bite out of the air but by the time I'd bother to change the place would be warm. Determined to endure the chill for a few minutes I brewed a coffee and looked about the apartment, searching for clues as to where Dick had gone. There wasn't a note and his suit was still where he left in the hidden compartment beneath the bed.

Sipping on the coffee I sat at the island bench, the stool tucked in close, and read the newspaper. It was a day old and I'd already read it but it distracted me. Sort of. I made it halfway before the words refused to focus, my mind tugging in fifty directions with questions and doubts. Like did Dick regret last night? Did _I?_ Something inside felt different on a level I couldn't describe. Though it wasn't like my first time. I'd been down that road before in times of boredom or a need to release a bit of energy. I stared at the coffee. Had I done that with Dick just to ease the torrid energy inside of me?

Turning my eye inwards I found it was fractionally quieter. The thought set me uneasy.

Since was one of my medium days – where my energy was too low to be of much use and I had enough strength to move about normally – I set about attending to all the finer details. I sat down before a laptop on the coffee table and set to work. Even without the full scope of my power I knew enough. I roughly cleaned away the tracks we'd left, then carefully arranged paperwork, a new car and a new apartment. All of it was paid for by several off shore accounts I'd cared for over the years, painstakingly working to keep them legit enough to not arouse suspicion, whilst maintaining a degree of anonymity.

It was boring, mind-numbing work but it chewed away a few hours. I took breaks, ate a little, and even had a shower. Dick was nowhere to be seen. For a while it seemed like he wasn't _coming_ , like he'd left. No word.

Then the door opened and the familiar pitter-patter of his footsteps against the polished floorboards. Along with the wafting smell of Thai. I looked up, watching him as he put the food on the island bench.

"Did you go to Thailand to get that?" I asked dryly.

Dick looked up and smiled sheepishly. "No but it did take a little longer to get it from this wicked place out of the city. As for the delay itself, I had to make a call to an old acquaintance of mine – Jason Todd – and look into that orphanage we're seeing soon. See if it's still standing."

The name stirred in my memory, a flicker. Something feint. Then it came back. Images bright and clear. A few dark nights sitting by a dodgy heater, laughing over bottles of cheap wine and nachos. I blinked the images away.

"The Red Hood – that Jason, perchance?"

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "You know of him?"

"Heard of him," I said indifferently. "I trust you used a burner?"

"Naturally," he said smoothly, shovelling the Thai noodles into two separate bowels before coming over.

I shut the laptop, determined to focus on the present – on Dick – but was hard when each feint movement sent flashes bursting through my skull. With a smile I listened as he talked about the orphanage, then even spoke about Jason, somehow not falling apart.

The whole thing was a cursed miracle.

"What did you and your old buddy chat about?" I asked, attempting to sound conversational, not accusing or biting – in my mind, however, I sounded like a jealous girl.

"I spoke to him before I decided to join you on all of this. Just needed to speak to him, let him know I was okay – not sure _why,_ since he'd probably throw anyone under the bus for the right price," said Dick, a surprising edge to the final words.

Old instincts surged inside of me, making me want to jump up and shake him, tell him – _tell him what?_ I drew back, a little stunned at the surprise feeling. With a deep breath I steadied my nerves.

"It's complicated between you two," I stated. "I don't blame you for having mixed feelings. By the sounds of it you either want to strangle him or hug him."

He blinked, a smile twitching. "Maybe not hug."

"Well that's Jason's loss, isn't it?" I declared, getting to my feet and turning back to the computer, to begin packing everything up.

"I love you."

My heart froze, my blood cooled as I spun around and stared at him, stunned.

* * *

 **Chloe** Sullivan strode down the streets of Gotham. The amber glow of dusk oozed into the muggy, powdery air, and set the dull towers ablaze. Crowds ebbed and flowed, a mulish air about them; the day had ended but the sinister song of Gotham's murky night hadn't begun. It was a twilight time, frozen, a breath held in anticipation. It would end, however. The sun would fall away completely and darkness would sweep over the city. _The ever cyclical nature of Gotham,_ mused Chloe as she stopped briefly at an old diner with cracked vinyl floors. There, she ordered a coffee to go. As she waited she peered out of the window to the street beyond, the harsh blue neon light above it setting an eerie glow across the murky pavement. _It was strange_ , she reflected, _no other city is like this. Everything in Metropolis is shiny and out of a fantasy world; Central City never seems to stop moving; every other city seems alien compared to Gotham. Or was Gotham the alien place, swallowing up the good, turning it dark and twisted?_

The coffee came and she went on her way. A stirring wind struck mutely against her, smelling vaguely of gas and decay. Wrinkling her nose she pushed on. She walked on until something grabbed her arm, yanking her into an alleyway. Terror exploded through her in a rush of adrenalin. She went to scream but found no sound came out, not even a whimper or haggard breath. The attacker slammed her against a wall, her back against it, and she saw them – saw _him._ He looked like just a normal guy; dark hair, dark tanned skin, a _kind_ face and he was well-dressed. Nothing really intimidating about him, aside from his eyes, which were completely white. No colour, no iris, not even a pupil.

He stepped back but Chl0e found she was frozen to the stop, paralysed. Like invisible chains had trapped her to the wall. Her heart raced fearfully.

"You do not understand what you're investigating. Stop now before you destroy the last chance my people have to live," he said, as though speaking with two voices; one human, the other rough and course – the latter seemed the most urgent. Desperate even.

She moved her mouth to try and speak. Still no sound. Yet a second later he snapped his fingers. Sound came flooding back to her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said hoarsely – in the back of her mind she knew she had the caller for Batman, an innocuous keychain to the untrained eye. If she could get to it she could call for help but would he get to her in time?

"Continue to work with Batman, continue to hunt the one known as Glitch, and you will be dead before the week is out," he snarled coldly as he stepped back, dissolving into shadows. "This is your final and only warning."

Her coffee lay by her feet, pooled in a series of words. A threat.

 _Leave her be._

* * *

 **It** wasn't unusual for things to go wrong for Rachel Flint – it happened regularly enough she'd even gotten a nickname from the other scientists at the centre. _Dr Klutz._ It was a double sting since she was really just an assistant, clearly _not_ a doctor, and a reminder that she was the most likely person to trip on a daily basis, spill coffee on herself or do a myriad of other mistakes. Still, she didn't mind that it got her the night shift to watch a bunch of computers. Okay, so it was a _little_ more complicated than that. The computers were all linked to satellites, all of which were trained on the stars beyond. Like they'd actually _see_ something.

As she rested back on her chair, occasionally glancing back at the clock on the wall, indicating it was a little after two am, she contemplated grabbing a coffee. In the end she decided against it, given her history with said drink. She got up and got some water from a cooler nearby, drinking it there, rather than risk spilling on anything. As she gulped down the last few droplets an alarm began; not blaring and annoying, like a fire alarm. Rather, a bleeping sound, and she looked across the room to the computers and saw some lights flashing. Her mouth formed a little 'o' as she tossed the cup in the bin – it missed and a few droplets splashed on the ground – and she hurried over. She sat down in front of the flashing computer and brought up what had been tripped. An image started to materialise; grainy, at first, then it cleared after a moment.

The blood drained from her face as shock registered through her. She quickly set to work, setting programs to track the object, time predictions. It was tedious work but it kept her busy as her fingers flew over the keys. She was still hard at work when her boss, the first to arrive any morning, Mira Fox, appeared.

"Update?"

Rachel paused. "Nothing since the call I made to you. It's still advancing slowly and looks to be about a month away from earth." She glanced up to her boss. "You recognise the ship, don't you?"

Mira nodded slowly. "The whole planet will."

"We should tell the League. They could deal with this before it becomes an issue."

" _No,_ " reprimanded Mira sharply. She took a deep breath. "I will inform Mr Savage of this." She glanced down at Rachel warningly. "Do remember who pays you and keeps your mother receiving the medical care she needs."

Rachel watched as her boss left. She glanced back at the picture of the ship approaching slowly, ominously. A creature of metal and death. The name whispered through her mind.

 _Braniac._


	20. Chapter 20

_She walked down the filthy, mouldy hallway, flanked by dozens of cells. The way was lit by a series of flickering globes, dangling precariously. She squinted through the powdery air, glancing briefly in each cell. Her target was nowhere to be found. Determined, she pushed on until she heard someone whistling a song. Wary, she approached the cell._

" _Well, well, well, are you my rescuer?" The dark haired young man asked with a teasing smile._

 _Beneath her mask she frowned. "You're not whom I'm after."_

 _She turned to leave when he called out. "Wait! You can't leave me here – they'll kill me."_

 _Sighing, she turned back. "That's not my problem. You probably deserve it."_

 _He shrugged. "Probably – so, will you help me? Please?"_

 _It'd be easy to do it and if he attacked she'd drop him. And his escape could mask any noise she'd make. Mind made up she walked up to his cell and set her hand on the cool bars. "Before I free you, what's your name?"_

 _He stared at her with unnervingly clever eyes. "Jason. Jason Todd."  
_

 **Chapter 20 Past**

 **The** Orphanage was fifty miles out of the city in a quiet coastal town, population four thousand. According to the welcome sign it boasted a giant fish. We passed it on the main street, all sixty feet of it. In previous cities when we'd passed similar stuff it was an opening for a conversation. Now it simply served as a reminder.

Pressing my cheek against the glass I tried to will myself far away, out of that car and those unsaid words. When he'd said 'I love you' I simply smiled and said I care about you, too. I'd watched as I'd ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it. He hadn't said much after that and was distant. Holding back I sigh I closed my eyes. Why was it so hard for me to say _those_ words, even though I knew without a doubt, without any hesitation or pretence that I did feel the same? Losing him would destroy me. Being with him was the only thing that I had that made sense, that _feeling_ when I was around him.

The shops continued to roll by, scatterings of people wandering about, seemingly without much goal in mind. A park appeared, then vanished into a stream of houses. A few children played innocently amongst the trees and flowers, parents watching on. I expected to feel a pang of longing, at not being able to ever have that; to own the white picket fence house, have children play amongst my feet, someone to stand by me until we were grey and old.

"It's just up here," murmured Dick, eyes focused solely on the road, as he flicked on an indicator.

The car turned slowly up a drive way stretching on far into the bush, crunching along the gravel. Ancient, gnarled trees stretched out over the road, touching their opposites, and leaving shadows dancing eerily across the road, stirred by a feint wind. I tried to look ahead, to see the house but for some time, I saw only shadows and trees. Eventually, however, something slowly appeared, a fleck of colour amongst the dense green. The house materialised. It was an old historical house, two stories tall, and half consumed by vines, and a brightly blooming garden. A couple of kids were playing hop scotch on a stick drawn layout. Another cluster played off to the side of the house, throwing a ball to each other. A couple stopped and stared as the car stopped and Dick and I climbed out.

"You know for an orphanage this is _not_ what I expected," said Dick quietly.

I studied the house, feeling the feint stirring of old memories. "This is it."

He glanced at me, measuring. "You sure?"

The front door swung open and an elderly woman with long silvery hair and baggy bright clothes came out. She froze when she saw me.

"Maxine?"

Dick and I shared a glance. _Guess that answers that question._ Turning back to the woman I made the next move.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember your name," I said sheepishly, walking up to her.

She smiled warmly. "Oh, that's alright! You were so young when I saw you last, barely four years old, I think. Do come in. I'll boil up a fresh pot of tea and we'll talk." Her gaze flickered to Dick and her brow furrowed. "Now I know you're not the young boy Max was here with. Who are you?"

"This is my boyfriend. He's here with me. I have some questions."

The woman looked back at me; for a second something else flickered in her eyes but it vanished before I could make sense of it; instead, they crinkled and softened. "Well I shall have to make _lots_ of tea, then – now, do come in!"

Wary, Dick and I followed her into a small living area cluttered with a dozen bookshelves, full to the brim of books on just about every topic. Though there seemed to be inordinate amount dedicated to earth, to 'fitting in' and different cultures. As we sat down, my attention drawn back to the woman, a young teenager brought in a tray of tea. She set it down, murmured something to the woman and then retreated, though not before casting a curious glance at me. I couldn't dwell on it much as the woman poured the tea into a cup for each of us, then held each cup out.

I took it and sniffed it, then sipped. After that, I set it down. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about where I was before this place. I'm trying to track down some answers you see-"

"You mean your planet? I'm afraid I don't know much about Kalera, child. No one does. It's a very recluse planet."

Beside me Dick stiffened, and even I registered some shock. I'd known I was different, that I wasn't a Meta human but I'd never had it confirmed I was alien. Nor had I ever known _what_ planet I was from. The name she gave, however, sent a chill through me, echoing through every inch of me. The name was true. I _knew_ it. Somehow. A part of me sang at the mention of it, as if answering a call to go home.

"Planet?" Dick echoed calmly.

The woman studied us both, then spoke. "Yes. You see this orphanage isn't like most. It's for children from other planets, refugees from wars, the last of their kind, or simply abandoned here. I help them learn about Earth and then move into society. Some take families before their 'legal age', others simply stay here until adulthood."

"But I left as a child – why? I remember being taken."

Her eyes shadowed. "You weren't kidnapped, if that's what you think. Some people from the government came in, waved all this paperwork around and whisked you and your friend anyway."

"Friend, not brother?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no, you weren't a sister to the boy. He said he was your guardian, though I'm not _quite_ sure how a young child was supposed to protect you."

"Do you know where I'm from? How I came to earth?"

For a moment she was silent. Her brow furrowed as the past stirred in her eyes, a story slowly woven together from fragmented memories. When she looked up at me her eyes were sad.

"I'm afraid I don't know. Your brother was very firm on hiding that." Her gaze held me. "The two of you were such a mystery – and you, he watched you like you were the most important thing in the world."

* * *

 **Dick** had no idea what to make of the woman – Vira, she told him her name was – nor of the orphanage, of all he'd heard. With each word he'd watched as Max's eyes stirred with understanding, remembering fragments of her past. It was like watching her pull further and further away, led by something _beyond_ his control. She finished Max asked if she could look around. She smiled and said it was fine. Max glanced at him, wary eyes, and her lips a questioning purse.

He touched her hand. "I'll be outside."

Relief flooded her eyes. She wandered off down a distant hallway, running one hand over the oak walls, humming softly. He watched her until she was gone from view and her humming had dissolved into the noise of the house. A young girl came and took the tray away, vanishing before he could even say hello.

"Don't mind her, she's quite shy," said Vira. "Her people are telepaths and very rarely speak. She is quite remarkable, though. Recently, we've got her to talk to the other kids. When she first came here she would hide in her room all day and just read."

He nodded absently. "How did she – how did all of these kids get here?"

"War, disease, economical collapse – the usual. A few we don't really know their stories," she said, gently ushering him out to the front porch. "Many here are fairly humanoid in appearance or are able to adjust how they look. It does make integration easy but not all come here are like that. For the rest we do what we can but many don't stay on earth."

"So what then?"

She sighed. "We have an old friend in the Green Lanterns. They help us with those whom we can't help."

Out in the yard a young girl screamed – a light, playful scream – and Dick watched as she dashed across the yard, chasing a boy twice her size. She leapt and dissolved into a plume of smoke, snaking after the boy, until it surrounded the boy. The girl rematerialized, dropping onto the boy. They both hit the dirt.

She stepped forward and let out a string of garbled words, not in any coherent language, which was followed by a series of hissing noises. The girl dissolved, then reappeared before the woman, her head hung sheepishly. She murmured something in a similar language, ending it with two short hisses. Dick watched in amusement as she trotted away contritely, only to dash after the same boy.

"Apologies about that."

"That's okay. They were only playing."

She chuckled. "She was going to _eat_ him. Her kind are _quite_ voracious in their appetite." After a pause she continued. "I am not from this world. I come from a dead world, from a race of people experts in the art of camouflage. We are chameleons, creatures of many faces – the Parabilan. My gifts allow me to aid these few in learning to adopt skills for long lives here. That is where Sam and Max were always _quite_ different.

"How so?"

"He always seemed to be waiting for something – for Max, I think. When she began to show powers he seemed relieved but it didn't seem to be enough. One day I became worried I called upon an old friend and asked her to look upon the children. She said she saw an illness in the boy, one slowly ravaging his system – a decade, she said he had. Little more than that. Yet when she looked upon the girl she saw such infinite, _untapped_ power, and saw another spirit slumbering within. Two souls and such power within one body. I feared the day she'd realise that power and Vals forbid if there was anyone standing in her way."

There was little time to ponder that when a bright light burst above them, blazing so fierce Dick was stunned – and a chilling feeling stole through him, a presence tugging at his chest. The light dimmed after a moment but dread pooled in his gut. He was already turning before his brain registered the movement and sprinting back inside the house.

" _Max!"_

* * *

 **It** was a song I heard through the swirling sphere of energy, hovering barely two feet from me, and standing almost six feet tall. It wasn't a human kind of song. I didn't just _hear_ it through physical ears. I felt it. Inside of me, a piece of me sung out, as if I was being called home. A string was inside of me and it reached into that sphere, connecting to something beyond, touching something warm and familiar.

Instinct drew me to it. One slow step at a time until I was close enough to touch, the warmth of the sphere washing over me. The song grew louder inside of me, pulsing with a vivacious energy, so strong it flooded through every vein and muscle fibre. I reached one hand out, drawn to it stronger with each passing breath. What was it beyond that glowing light? Why did it feel so familiar?

I closed my eyes and used the hum of the energy to draw on the Second Sight. The second I opened my eyes I saw the world made of ribbons of energy, not bound by human thought or conception. The sphere appeared similar, though blazed brighter than I thought was possible. The sound inside of me was louder – crisper.

A feint noise warbled through the song – rough and coarse, sharp against the ethereal melody. Instinct roared inside of me, desperate to dismiss it, burn it away until only the song remained. But the noise grew louder, took shape and formed an undeniable coherence.

" _Max!"_

In some dim recognition I knew the voice to be from Dick but my thought was so consumed by the song I struggled to care. To notice. Then something touched my hand, warm and soft and so different. Slowly, I turned and I saw the source, saw _him._ Not made of the same glowing light like everything else but flesh and blood, standing clear and real in a world only I could see. Confusion tore at his face, anguish in his eyes. His mouth was moving but the words were jumbled. It took a moment for them to make sense again.

"What's going on?"

I glanced back at the sphere, felt its call home. "I think I'm being called home. I'm not sure but I found this stone I played with as a child. Being here now I think I was always meant to come back here."

"You don't know that. Max, it could be a trap."

The song tugged harder, grew louder until here was no ignoring, no denying what it meant, how it felt. I pulled my hand from Dick's warm, safe grasp.

"I have to go but don't worry I'll be back," I said and before he could stop me I leapt into the sphere and the world I knew fell away.

* * *

" **So** that's Dick's girl?" Jason said aloud, eyeing the picture before him with calm interest.

Since his chat with Bruce he had to admit how curious he was about the woman Dick had run off with. When Dick had first spoken to him about deciding to run away or not, Jason hadn't really given a damn about the girl. Figured it was just some shadowy girl that Dick would follow for a few months, take her in and that'd be the end of it. Then he'd had a bad dream one night and woke up with the urge to have a face to the name. Yet, at that moment, staring at the face, he could taste the whiskey in his mouth and hear the records of Elvis Presley.

"Do you know her, sir?" Louis, Jason's second in command, asked as he sat down, a glass of scotch in his hand, lounging on a very expensive couch. Stolen, of course.

Jason blinked and looked up. "A long time ago."

"Ah, old flame?"

The corner of his lips were tugged upwards as a dim memory of her yelling at him surfaced. "More like a hurricane crossed with a bushfire." His expression sobered and he stood suddenly. "I want you to look into something for me."

Curiosity stirred in Louis's dark brown eyes, masked by years of practised calm. "The girl?"

"No. She's in the past," replied Jason calmly. "I need you to look into a string of attacks on some of our healers. It's probably just junkies but one is in the morgue so far and his mother came around today. Made a very vocal speech about how it's all our fault – let's give her someone else to blame, shall we?"

Louis grinned and downed his drink, rose with a chuckle and left. With a deep breath Jason leaned back in his chair and stared at the picture in his hand. It was hard to believe it was her. The hair was shorter, the eyes darker but it was the same girl. The fire in her eyes seemed stronger than ever, glittering dangerously behind that smile of hers.

 _Where is your trail of destruction now, Max?_


	21. Chapter 21

" _What have you don-" The words died in Max's mouth as Jason staggered into the apartment, clutching at his side. She sprinted to him, catching him just as he crumpled into his arms._

" _Turns out Falcone's men aren't as dumb as you'd think," he chuckled weakly, as white as a ghost._

 _She cut him a hard look. "You are going to get yourself killed someday."_

 _Once she settled him on the couch he grinned. "Been there done that."_

" _Then you should've learnt your lesson the first time."_

 **Chapter 21 Awaken**

 **There** was only darkness and silence, an unseen floor beneath me – too black to be really seen. Were it not for the firmness of it beneath my feet, I might've thought I was floating. It was clear, though, that I was alone, and I had no idea what to do next. The next I'd appeared the song had ceased, the light dissolved. Yet there was no panic, nor fear. My body felt at ease, my power stable and obedient.

"Hello child. Welcome home," said a soft, gentle voice, from the deep, unending darkness.

I looked around, trying to pin the source but it seemed to come from all around me, wrapping me up. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"I have many names by your people, yet none are my own. I am a creature without name, beyond such binding properties. As for _where_ you are, you are where I said you are – home."

Again, I looked around, not to find the source but to see this 'home' of mine. The place where I was from. Despite the familiarity of it, the way the whispers called to me, another place called – one real and green. Not earth. Somewhere different, where the air was sharper, the wind gentler, and the water shone gold in the sunset.

"This isn't it," I said.

"This _is_ your people's true home. They are cut from it, exiled by a monster, dying without it – and this place, in turn, it is dying without them. Let us show you the truth, child, and open your eyes to what shall be, if you are strong enough to accept your role in what is to come."

A warm energy descended over me, soft like summer rain, and soaked through me soothingly. Light blossomed around me, the world taking shape – sort of. The void remained but it was one of light, of pure energy, like what I'd seen on earth. Yet richer, more vivid. Darting freely amongst it was small colourful spheres of energy, darting about with such vivacity like they were alive. Some raced with each other, others clustered – all seemed to sing to each other, the same call I heard back at the orphanage. It was peaceful and content, not a fleck of ill-feeling or darkness about it.

The world shifted. The energy world fell away until a lush green valley, sweeping out to a distant horizon of twin suns, appeared. A smattering of houses clustered in the middle, edged by a stream and a small forest. It all seemed so far away, a speck really, until the world blurred around me for a moment, then stilled in the next breath. I stood amongst the village, watching as people moved from house to house, or stood at stalls. No one moved very fast and a grim, weary air hung over the village.

"This is one of many across this planet – once creatures of light and energy, not bound by the rules of mortal folk, now live here. In this place. The planet gave up all its strength long ago to give them their ascension, now it drains them unconsciously to repair the trauma of the attack long ago. The people die, too weak to return to their true form, to open the gate home," said the voice, materialising into the form of a young woman beside me. "Your people grew desperate and made you. Years of frantic research, coupled by the looming threat of extinction. You, my child, are the last hope of your people."

The girl turned to me, her eyes like the universe itself – nebulas and galaxies swirling in her eerie eyes. Intense, with the depth and vastness of space itself. She held out one dainty hand. Instinctively, I took it – though, to be perfectly honest, the girl terrified me in an omnipotent, all powerful sort. That, and what she said was beginning to make sense of things, and it all felt _right._ Like for my whole life I'd be waiting for _this_ moment, rather than find Sam – whom clearly was _not_ my brother. I still wanted to save him – that hadn't changed – but things had become complicated, everything twisted up in half-truths and things I really didn't want to address.

"You want me to open the gate," I stated.

She looked at me with sad eyes. "Yes but know that when you do, you will no longer exist. Running from this will do you no good either. Your power will continue to grow increasingly wild until it eats away at your body. Whilst you still can you must open the gate. Soon, as an enemy approaches your world, drawn by your rising strength. Should he find you, all will be lost."

The world changed once more, the dark void returned and the girl vanished beside me. If she was even a girl at all, or simply just something physical my brain could actually process. I didn't really want to think about what she actually was, or what her mere existence might mean.

"I have one more question," I called out into the endless void. "When I – when I slept with Dick I felt something inside of me change, like I'd stolen some energy off him. That's never happened before. What does it mean?"

"In times of your weakness your body will begin to siphon from sources other than your internal well. Now, you must return and do what you must before the time is up – _go!"_

An explosive force of energy shoved me back, sending me tumbling into the void.

* * *

 **They** broke her. After a change of tactics, ones more suited to interrogating a Parabilan, a _Chameleon,_ it had taken little time at all. She lay curled on the floor, hooked up to several wires, that every time her body instinctively went to adapt to the changing scenery shifting across the white room it shocked her. Each wire sent a bolt of such high electricity, far higher than any human could survive. It left her body unable to settle, her cells in a constant of agitated flux. It was agony and it shredded her mind within minutes.

Sometime later they dragged her from the floor but so much electricity had been put through her she was still burning in agony. It'd be like that for days to come. They returned her to the chair and asked her just one little question.

"Why did you really help the girl escape and stay with her all these years?"

Sasha didn't even have the strength, nor will, to lie. "A creature came to me and bound me to Max's life, made me swear that in the absence of her other guardian I was to protect her."

"And what _is_ Max?"

"Kaleran, biologically engineered."

"To what purpose?"

"I don't know. They never told me."

There was an irritated breath, a soft hiss. " _Who_ were they?"

"Beings of another dimension, the Keepers."

There was a long pause that Sasha hoped for one bleeding moment that it was all over – that they had all they needed. Maybe they'd let her go, or kill her. Either held appeal. So long as she didn't go back into _that_ place. What shredded pieces she had left of herself, clinging together by loose threads, each one fraying with every second she endured that hell. How long she'd have left she didn't know, couldn't even give a time, since she had no concept of it anymore. No sense of anything beyond her own fragmented thoughts and the few rooms she saw.

She vaguely heard the soft patter of feet, then another pause. "Take her back."

Hands clamped around her arms. Panic roared inside of her, the last bursts of her energy, and she tried to surge to her feet. Pain exploded through her limbs, protesting the movement. She could only scream as they dragged her back and the electricity returned, sending her tumbling over the edge.

 _I am Sasha, a Parabilan, best frie-_

 _I am Sasha, a-_

 _I am-_

 _Who?_

 _Who am I?_

* * *

 **The** meeting was called and the senior members of the League gathered, the urgency prompting a faster response than usual. Even Flash shaved point six two of a second off his usual tardy time. Bruce may have remarked on that, were it not for the sombre air that had settled within the room, dulling even Hal Jordon's usual sharp tongue. All eyes were on Superman's seat, which was uneasily vacant. The man in question not yet returned from his scouting mission.

Bruce turned to Hal. "Can you scout the area?"

"I'll get on it. Engage if I find it?"

"No. There's little use risking your capture and being another member down when this gets to earth," said Bruce, shaking his head. "Watch and study, then report back."

Wonder Woman, one whose usually not so quiet on meetings, piped up. "Do you suggest we abandon him to that monster?"

"Currently Hal and the other Green Lanterns are the only ones who can make the distance in any reasonable time. We'd take too long trying to get that far out and risk leaving earth undefended. As for sending a few to do the job, what if they are caught? _Superman_ was caught, one of the strongest amongst us. It's not wise to sacrifice some of us pointlessly, not when we will need all our numbers to fight when the time comes."

The unspoken possibility, so grim and haunting, hung over them all. _Superman may be the one we fight._ As well as Braniac. It wasn't impossible but it was by no means uncomfortable odds. He thought about suggesting using some of the weapons he'd made for the day he'd have to fight his old friend, ones the others had thought he'd destroyed. As it was, it was just as well he hadn't. Though he knew the others would act sour about it, wondering if he still had plans and weapons in place if _they_ went rogue. He did but that was beside the point. If necessary, he'd lie.

"We need to prepare, be ready to fight when the time comes. J'onn, organise teams and begin training. Black Canary, you're in charge of the training itself. Hal, contact any of the available GL's and coordinate a plan on your front. You'll be first attack, along with J'onn when the time comes, as well as several capable members who can fight in space. Wonder Woman, I'll have you heading the ground forces, along with Cyborg, Hawk Girl and Hawk Man. As for you, Flash, we'll need Impulse and you to run point on containment, along with Green Arrow. See if Red Arrow and Arsenal are interested. The more the better." He paused, looking about the table but the present members had been assigned jobs.

"What about you?" Wonder Woman asked calmly, one brow lifted – as if to say, _well, we're doing all this…_

He met her gaze. "I'm working on plan A when we meet them."

"You don't know he's been turned or-"

"I am preparing for that possibility," he cut in quietly.

She narrowed her gaze. "With those weapons we asked you to remove."

He rose from the table. "Good thing I didn't. The meeting is over. We'll convene again tomorrow, same time."

As he walked out he was _acutely_ aware of them all watching him, biting words on their tongues. Oh, they were _less_ than pleased about his weapons, about the fact he even had them. It was a conversation for another time, one for when the world wasn't hinging on disaster – again.

He needed time to think. It was in one of the sparring rooms he found what he was after. He hung up his cape, then stretched out his stiff limbs. Without Tim, whom was drawing back on how much time he spent as Robin, Barbara whom was focusing on school, and Dick who was far away, he had no time to relax. No time to pull back on shifts. He'd become complacent with the help, lazy even. The ache reminded him that he'd slacked off too much, and that he wasn't as young as he was when he began. Regardless of whatever he wanted to think. Time was _not_ on his side.

As he sparred he heard the door open, Black Canary walked in.

"I thought I might find you here."

He stopped and turned to her. "They're upset."

She smiled indulgently. "They're _processing._ Can you blame them?" As he went to speak she held up a hand. "Relax, they're not about to kick you out."

"I'm relieved," he replied dryly.

She strode across the space and shrugged off her jacket. Ignoring his questioning stare she stood before him. He attacked first, yet she deflected him off with several quick swipes. And so they were off; a flurry of punches and dodges, of sweeping kicks and flips backwards. The world beyond their sparring fell away, and all that was at forefront of their mind was dodging the next blow. He got in a firm jab into her side, driving the air from her lungs. She staggered back, wheezing a little. Knowing she'd punish him for going easy he launched forward. Quick to recover she swung her leg out, driving her foot into his side. With armour, it was barely felt. But it was enough to distract him, just for a split second, and she tripped him, sending him right onto his back.

"Found Nightwing yet?"

He paused, and looked up. "No."

She held out a hand, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed and shining with sweat. Taking it, he got to his feet and stepped back. Being close to her was _not_ a good idea. It was all kinds of dangerous and complicated and messy. That, and he had a staunch rule about getting involved with _any_ team member.

"He'll come back."

"We'll see," he said and strode past her, grabbing his cape and fastening it on his way out.

Behind him, she sighed, almost pained but said nothing. Whatever she'd come to him for he didn't know, or even why she'd sparred. The whole conversation was bizarre and left him even more distracted than he'd been before.

He had to get off the watchtower before anything else happened.

* * *

 **Dick** was out of options. He'd scowered every inch of the orphanage, questioned – well, _tried_ to – the kids, grilled Vira, and inspected the stone that had fallen to the ground after Max vanished. Nothing gave him any indication on where she'd gone, why she'd been so damn drawn to that portal, or if she'd ever come back at all. Thoughts raced through his head. What if she never came back? There'd be too many unanswered questions, too many carefully dodged words, not enough said, not enough done.

He paced the attic for what felt like an eternity before he slumped down onto a ratty couch. It squeaked with his weight and smelt of moth balls and old wine. The stone lay in his hand, oddly warm and gently pulsing to the touch.

When a bright light exploded beside him, blinding him for a moment, he was frozen. Paralysed, really, until it slowly dulled enough for him to see. The sphere had returned. He jumped to his feet, heart slamming wildly against his chest. At first there was nothing but the sphere; then, a slowly blurry shape appeared. With each second it focused a little more.

Max stepped out of the portal. She blinked when she saw him, as if she hadn't expected him, or temporarily forgotten who he was. Then she smiled. It was a sad sort of smile, the kind that knew the future, and embraced the pain to come. Yet there was a dim flicker of hope, burning against the darkness. Barely there, yet there all the same.

He wasn't even aware he was moving until he yanked her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head into her neck. For a moment she was stiff in his arms. Then she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him. Eventually, he pulled back and looked into those worldly eyes.

She closed her eyes. "Forgive me."

He never saw it coming. One minute she was there before him, the next driving her first and a bolt of energy into his head. Darkness splashed across his vision as he crumpled to the ground. Unconsciousness tugged at him but he forced himself awake for a few seconds longer, staring up at Max, whose dark eyes met his own. It was like staring into the face of a stranger.

"Don't follow me. If you do, I'll kill you."

Darkness swallowed him whole.


	22. Chapter 22

" _You're leaving," said Jason from the doorway of the bedroom._

 _Max lingered in the doorway, half turned back. "I have to go. I can't stay here. There's things I have to do."_

" _This is about the club, isn't it? About what I did?"_

 _She drew a deep breath and turned to him fully. "We are destructive when we're together. It's not healthy. I have to go."_

" _I won't think about you after this. I won't give a damn and I won't chase after you. I'm not that guy."_

 _A sad, ghost-like smile touched her lips. "Goodbye, Jason."_

 **Chapter 22 Poison**

 **There** was a knock at the door. Odd since Jason had requested to be left alone. Louis would call first, if he had to disturb him. Otherwise, he was left in peace. He glanced up at the door from the kitchen, eyeing it curiously for several seconds, waiting for the knocking to come again. It did. He got up and went to the door. The knocking ceased but he didn't hear the person walk away. They'd heard him and was waiting for him to open the door. He peered through the eye hole and froze, his blood cooling rapidly. Slowly, he stepped back and paused.

"I know you're there, Jason. You know it's me. We need to talk." It was _her._ After all this time she'd come _back,_ despite what she'd said.

He yanked open the door. "Come crawling back?"

"Hardly," she said dismissively, gliding past him.

"Just make yourself at home why don't you," he muttered, following after her. " _Meg_."

She paused in the kitchen living area and looked about for a moment. "This is certainly an upgrade and you know my name is Max."

"Yeah but you see I heard about this smoking hot girl my friend was dating, a girl he ran away from everything for, and her name was Max," he said.

Turning to him, Max flashed him that smile – the same that knocked him on his ass years ago. "Yeah, it seems I have a habit of attracting Robins. Give a few years and I might hit on Tim."

All the amusement he had at her banter quickly faded when a question rose to mind. "So you said you wanted to talk."

She cocked her head. "We _are_ talking."

"You're evading."

With a sigh she turned away from him. "I need your help with something. Don't worry, if all goes well, it should be done within a few weeks. Then I'll be gone."

"And if it's not?"

"I'll probably be dead," she said casually. "Though that's the same outcome regardless for me."

He stared at her for a moment, his mind ticking over. The shock of her death sent him off balance; heck, _seeing_ her threw him. Deep down he didn't trust himself to act normal around her, to not get tangled up in her again. Closing his eyes, he sighed, shoving aside the images of _her_ and the bed and the morning light. When he opened them again she watched him closely as he went into the kitchen. He got out two cups and the whiskey from the cabinet, pouring it just as he had all those years ago. As he set the glasses down his hand was shaking – faintly, but nonetheless. He grasped the edge of the bench as Max picked up her glass, taking a sip. She paused, her gaze flickering up as she lowered the glass.

"This is the same bottle," she murmured. "I would've thought-"

When he lifted his hand, his gaze locked on hers, it was steady and he took a deep swig of the glass. "I wasn't about to waste the best bottle of whiskey I had."

"But you always said this was your crappiest bottle of whiskey," she said quietly.

His smile deepened. "What can I say – it's a special bottle."

To his frustration she didn't seem to react to his jibe, though his meaning was clear. If he was being really honest he hadn't finished the bottle because after she left he didn't like drinking whiskey. Made him remember her and her damnable smile. So he drank everything else, avoiding with whiskey like the plague. She didn't need to know that, though. Long ago he'd learnt it was best she never had the ammunition. When she did, she was dangerous. To his sanity, mainly.

She finished the glass and pushed it back to him. Then she began to talk, about her home, the mission, and the end.

* * *

 **Bruce** sat in the cave, hood drawn down, staring at the message that had been sent _straight_ to his computer. It was carefully encrypted, done in such a way that it erased its tracks once it had been delivered. The words read bold on the screen.

 _Alive. Will return when this is over. Cease tracking._

Instinct gnawed at his mind, telling him it was Dick saying stay back, not Max. He doubted she'd word it like that, or she'd bother with stating if they were alive or not. Naturally, he didn't want to stop tracking. It went against everything he was. And the words 'when this is over' echoed eerily in his mind. When _what_ was over? What had Dick become entangled with and was it something Bruce had to get himself involved in? He trusted Dick to make the right decisions but when pretty girls were involved, especially ones so clever, doubt crept in.

"Master Dick is alive then?" Alfred murmured, appearing from the shadows, setting down a tray of sandwiches.

Bruce nodded slowly, his gaze still on the words. "So it seems."

"It is _quite_ ominous 'when this is over' – isn't it?" Alfred continued. "Regardless, he is a capable young man. I imagine he shall be quite okay."

Bruce didn't agree but had long learnt that sometimes it was simply best to be silent. When Alfred left an alert cropped up in the corner of his screen. Someone had left the body of a Meta Human in downtown Gotham, marked with a letter addressed for him. Commissioner Gordon was signalling him, too.

Once he was dressed and climbed onto the bike he rode his way downtown, where he parked the bike hidden down an alley – cloaking and locking it before he left it. From there he used a grappling hook and reached the top of a four story building, before trekking his way across the rooftops towards the area. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, pinching them red. In the shadows no one could see it but he certainly felt it; only now, after years, it barely bothered him at all. It didn't distract him as he pushed on, taking little notice of the tall skyscrapers in the distance and the glittering light of Gotham's untameable dark side.

At the area he dropped down into a fairly wide alley way. The body, which was tastefully covered and was being attended to by the crime unit, lay at the mouth, and would've been easily seen from the street. It had seemingly placed in the one spot which caught the light of a street lamp, as well as in view of a camera from a jewellery store across the road. It had been placed to be seen, to be found quickly.

He scanned over the rest of the scene, dismissing the wary looks of the team, which had long learnt to accept sometimes Batman would appear. Never for very long. He never saw any reason to stay longer than he had to.

"Batman," called out Gordon, ushering him to the rear of the alley, which opened into a small loading yard at the back of a club.

Bruce went over. "The letter?"

Gordon handed it over without another word. The old commissioner watched his movements as Bruce unfolded the letter, then scanned the eerie contents. A set of coordinates and a time, along with a very simple warning. _Come alone._ Whether the author meant _no cops_ or was referring to no _League_ members, Bruce wasn't overly concerned. The killer wanted to meet.

His old friend watched Bruce curious, but wary. It was clear what the old cop was thinking. Would this be another nutjob determined to hunt the Dark Knight, to threaten Gotham? There had been so many before, all determined to bring him down, that he didn't feel offended at the cop's suspicion when it came to stuff like this. He'd become used to seeing the commissioner personally on certain cases at crime scenes, even though it wasn't _really_ his job. It had become a personal courtesy of sorts, an agreement between the two men. If – or when – the commissioner ever retired, Bruce doubted he'd form the same working relationship as he'd had with Gordon, certainly not with the same degree of trust.

A CSI called to Gordon, along with a couple other names, and the old Commissioner turned away. Using that, Bruce shot back up to the roof and was gone from sight. It took him little time to traverse the rooftops, leaping and swinging through, to return to his bike. Climbing on he then punched in the coordinates, then synced it with his helmet. The map of the city unfurled before his eyes, a red line tracing the route to the meeting place. Bruce saw the end and knew the place well. It was where Glitch had met with the League, asking for their help.

* * *

 **I** waited in the well-lit, well- _furnished_ living room of Jason's apartment, restless and edgy. Even though it wasn't the same apartment it had the same smell, the _same_ feel. It reeked of Jason, which was a decidedly dangerous thing indeed. Everything about Jason was dangerous; the way he smiled, like he was toying with you and enjoyed getting a rise out of you; his eyes that were far too intelligent and wild; and the way he just carried himself, like he was unafraid of dying but lived to the fullest, often the craziest he could. He never did things by half measures, and I doubted _that_ had changed.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face, needing the cold water to help clear some thoughts. Yet when I looked into the mirror I saw _her_ staring back at me; rather, she stood beside my own reflection. The same pale hair, yet longer and wilder; fierce dark eyes and skin a few shades darker than my own; and a look on her face like she was waiting for something.

" _Be ready. It's almost time,"_ she whispered, as speaking _inside_ my head.

Looking down at my hands I saw them shaking. I grasped the edge of the sink, stilling them. "I'm scared. What if I'm not strong enough? I'm not afraid of what happens to me after – I've…I've _accepted_ that but I'm scared I won't have enough power to open the gate. That I'll fail. My strength is so unstable – what if it gives out from me when I'm opening the gate?"

I looked up and saw her eyes had softened, just a fraction. _"Together we will finish this. I will help you and keep you steady. It is why we were bonded."_

"You had a body before this? A life on Kalera?"

Her eyes clouded, grew guarded and cold, before she vanished before my eyes. A sore subject, it seemed. Turning away from the mirror I wondered what life she had, why she'd agreed to sacrifice her own life with mine to do all of this. Had the disease that ravages our people claimed her own family? Someone she loved?

Thoughts on that were cut short as I heard the front door open and Jason call out.

"Max?"

Even the way he spoke stirred memories of the past, when I'd be half asleep on the couch after a job and he'd come back from his own nightly exploits. I went into the hallway.

"Here. All sorted?"

He met my gaze, glittering with amusement. "So little faith in me."

I drew a deep breath, steady and calm. "Where is it?"

"The staff is kept in the private possession of one Vandal Savage. Why that staff?"

"Remember the memories I said those things gave me? Anyway, I need it to help. They picked earth for a reason; energy wise it's almost a mirror twin, and it has a plethora of magical items to help channel my energy, along with the other girl in me to help boost my power. With it all I can open the gate and do what I was meant to," I said, yet the facts swam before me, with an almost overwhelming intensity.

Jason stared at me, his expression calm. "To die."

"Yes and I'm scared but I'm going to do this. I _have_ to do this. My whole life has been about survival, about trying to find someone whom I thought was alive, whom I thought was my brother. Yet I've always felt restless, like I've been trapped – just waiting for something. Then my powers began to grow and I began to feel like I was racing towards something. I didn't know _what_ , only that I was approaching a point in my life that I'd been waiting for. The only thought wasn't for the fact that I wasn't going to survive it, or that I'd cease to be. It was for the people whose lives depended on me, whom had scrapped together all they had on one last chance to survive. To beat the odds. My only thought was on being strong enough to do it, to make sure I got them _home._ It's all I care about now. It's all I _can_ care about."

When I was done Jason remained silent for some time. Did he think I was crazy? Did he think I was stupid? Those questions were erased as he went into the kitchen and returned with two glasses, and that special bottle of whiskey. He poured the whiskey, then held one out. As I took it, he held his up and met my gaze.

"To beating the odds. You'll never be forgotten, Max."

I downed the whiskey and smiled back. My fate loomed ahead, racing faster and faster towards me. Now, I was ready – for better or worse. All I had to do next was rob Vandal Savage. _Oh fun._

* * *

 **Right** where Glitch had once stood, swathed in the silvery hue of the moon, stood a man. Cloaked, unassuming, watching the space Bruce appeared long before any normal person would be able to see them. Just a regular man. Alfred chattered away in his ear, informing him that the man before him was Benjamin White. A public defender in Gotham with magic in his blood, with a knack for helping troubled magicians. Just a couple speeding fines and one parking fine, all done in the duty of his side job.

Clearly _not_ the person before him – and yet, it was.

"The Dark Knight _does_ come when summoned," murmured two voices from the man; one, from Boston, another with an unearthly accent, sounding more like he was struggling with a language at all. "I have a question."

"Why the body?"

The man tilted his head to the side. "Bod _ies_." After a pause he gestured to the bench, as if for Batman to sit. Bruce remained standing. "I heard a little rumour Braniac is coming." Still, Bruce remained silent. "I know why he's coming – _who_ he's coming for."

"Glitch."

He nodded. "Yes but he can't be allowed to get to her. If he stops what she has to do our people are dead. That's why he wants her dead. With her gone our people are extinct."

"Braniac is a collector; he takes cities and studies."

"That only works when you can keep said creatures in a cage and he can still do that – he may kill her, which is likely, or he'll imprison her like some experiment. It ends the same for the rest of us because he can't find us." The man let out a deep breath. "What I'm _asking_ is when the time comes, _protect_ her. You won't even need to worry about the threat she could be after anyway."

"Why?"

"Because she'll be dead when she's done. Now, will you help? Or will you condemn our people to extinction?"

He studied the man. "What about the string of bodies you've left behind?"

"Collateral damage. When Braniac comes I do hope you make the _right_ choice. She may be gone after this but I won't and I'll be happy to haunt this hell hole for a while."


	23. Chapter 23

**[Only a couple chapters remain. There will be a second book. This is currently the first in a sort of chronicles, tentatively named** _ **"The Lost Children of Kalera."**_ **TBH, it's a working title and will likely change. Also, it was also stated that Max is a 'heart of gold' criminal, whom isn't really that bad – that it's a shame she's not a 'bad guy'. Max was never written to be a criminal, not in the typical way; her motives had always been about family, about fighting for those she loves. Ultimately, it is about her fate and her coming to terms with the courage to do what must be done, despite what it means for her. Max was never a 'bad guy', not really, and lived in the shadows purely as a result of her circumstances. Max is one side of a coin of sorts, and Ava, whom you will shortly meet, is the other side.]**

" _Off they go," murmured the woman, watching as a single light blazed across the sky, vanishing into the stars above._

 _Beside her a man held her hand and coughed; a haggard, chesty sound. She glanced over and saw the blood in his hands, saw the ghostly pallor his skin. With a sad smile she squeezed his hand._

" _You keep them together, love. They'll need you more than ever for the times ahead," he said weakly. "I'm just sorry I won't be around."_

 _She didn't say anything. She was so used to death and knew more of it was to come before they salvation came – if it ever came at all._

 **Chapter 23 Victim**

The lab was cloaked in the dull, powdery glow thrown by a long line of street lamps down two sides; the remainder lay in thick shadow, bordered by a warehouse and a dock beyond. Two small ships, barely fifty metres long, lay berthed, and one seemed in the process of being unloaded. A dozen or so crates late stacked on the forecastle, one being craned over to join several others that lay on the dock. They were illuminated by a series of light posts, erected regularly along the dock to the rear of the warehouse. What was Savage collecting?

I slipped into a camera attached to the rear of the warehouse, overlooking the dock and saw that it was medical supplies. One barcode on one crate matched a stolen shipment of anesthetic. Strong stuff, too. Not your usual hospital grade stuff.

 _Weird. Jason didn't say anything about this lab doing experiments requiring this type of drugs._ I withdrew, a wave of nausea tugging at my gut. As my eyes fluttered open the world lurched for a second, then tilted back to normality. A gentle probe revealed a brief stability, though I had little indication on how long that would last. I got to my feet and strode out of the alley way, simultaneously cloaking myself from the cameras as I crossed the road. Nearing the fence I burst into a run and vanished, blinking into reality within the fenced yard. I made my way around to the main entrance, which at night was guarded by a single guard at that entrance. There were others scattered about, along with several scientists working late but they were easy enough to avoid.

So long as my powers didn't blink out on me. I needed them a lot tonight, if only to keep myself aware of everything around me, and not get caught. With everything racing faster and faster towards the end I couldn't risk getting caught, at anything delaying me and risking me missing my chance. I almost felt bad at using Jason so openly, at not even trying to amend the damage I'd wrought the last time I'd blown into his life. But if I allowed myself to dwell on the mistakes, on worry about fixing everything that was wrong, I risked distracting myself from the end goals. From what I was made for. So in the end feelings mattered very little, and everything I broke next was simply collateral damage. I hoped that if I kept telling myself that I'd eventually believe it. Maybe.

Inching closer to the glass windows that revealed the main entrance I saw the lone guard. He sat behind his desk, staring absently down at the screens before him. Slipping into the camera behind him I panned it slightly down and looked over the different screens, noting what areas had guards, and that there was a sensor system. With little effort I slipped into it and a three dimensional layout of the lab unfurled in my mind, red dots denoting where people were – both workers and, what seemed like were prisoners, for they were in tiny rooms. A rudimentary scan revealed those rooms were locked.

More of Savage's victims. I withdrew before I conjured any harebrained scheme to free them myself, yet set a message for the League. It was delayed but would send in a couple hours, enough time for me to do what I had to, and leave. Then they could break in and free the prisoners. Providing they'd do it at all, despite the message coming from me. There was little point hiding it. And I didn't have time to worry about hiding my details properly. An open message seemed best – wisest.

I focused on the guard – on the desk phone next to him – and set it to ring. As predicted he answered, his gaze fixed solely down on the phone with a half-hearted sort of glare, as if it was the biggest inconvenience. The second he answered I blinked into the hallway behind him, then slipped into a nearby elevator. I waved my hand over the display, summoning the level to Savage's private office. For a moment the elevator remained still; then, with a soft hum, it lurched upwards.

My heart slammed nervously against my ribs with each passing second, crawling on by agonisingly. The elevator stopped suddenly, followed by a distinct _ding_ before the doors whirred open. I had arrived.

* * *

 **Bruce** didn't say anything when Dick appeared in the cave that night, no explanation. He met his protégé's gaze, then nodded. Bruce knew he'd have to bring up his meeting with Max's 'brother' and the threat he brought. In the cold of that cave, Bruce sought a way to arrive at it.

He pushed back his cowl. "Barbara stopped by."

Dick remained where he was, his expression shadowed. "Oh?"

"She became aware of your disappearance and grew concerned," he said absently.

"And you, too," replied Dick. "You seemed pretty determined to find us. You got close a couple times, too."

With his back to Dick it took a fair bit of strength not to throttle Dick. Bruce felt a flare of anger at his casual tone, though he knew that there was a great deal of mixed emotions. It settled between them like a slow acting poison, thick like syrup, all-consuming. So much unsaid, so much _dying_ to be said.

"It seemed that if Max didn't want me to find you I wasn't about to," he conceded quietly – the only time and place he'd say anything like that was in that cave, with only Dick was witness. "I had a visitor."

"Besides Barb? Someone concerned about me?"

Bruce turned around. "Concerned about Max. It seems she has more enemies that we believed – the alien kind."

To Bruce's surprise Dick frowned, confusion flashing in those sapphire eyes of his. "Max never mentioned enemies like that."

"And she told you everything?" Bruce replied, his tone so dead and calm that it was impossible not to see the sting of irritation and doubt in Dick's face.

Clearly, Dick had doubted Max. Doubted that she had, in fact, told him everything. Bruce knew how that gnawed on a mind, how it tore at a heart when it was from someone you loved. And he didn't doubt that Dick loved Max. He just didn't believe Max felt the same – or even could ever feel the same. Some things seemed simply beyond her basic nature.

"Whose coming?" Dick asked, luring the conversation away from bitter territory.

Bruce brought up a picture of the stars on screen, then enhanced a section until a ship became visible. A very _familiar_ ship.

"Braniac. He's almost here."

Dick flashed him a surprised look. "Why so soon?"

"We didn't register his arrival until recently and had made the decision to fight closer to earth, rather than risk a repeat of the last incident," said Bruce. "The League wasn't about to fight Superman again."

"And he's here for Max – why?"

Bruce gestured for him to take a seat.

* * *

 **The** staff was where Jason said it was, though I didn't want to think about _how_ he procured that tidbit of information. I approached the stand warily, sending out precautionary scans to detect sensors. As predicted, it was pressure sensitive. Still, it wasn't Louvre style security, so it wasn't bad. With a gentle nudge I was inside the system and I disabled the sensors; well, I set a fake weight to consistently run. As I lifted the staff up the alarms remained deathly quiet, and all was well. Sort of.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

The voice stopped me dead. I didn't need to turn to see _who_ it was, though my interactions with him personally were thin to say the least. Still, as I turned, I was surprised to find he wasn't alone. The blood within me froze.

"Sasha?"

My old _friend_ stared back, silent as a ghost, completely impassive. Like I wasn't staring at her, wondering how she'd gone from helping me to working for _Savage._ Pain was there, throbbing in my chest, but anger stirred beside it, and confusion. They twisted together into something dark and sick, something that was determined to grow.

"Your old friend has proven to be _quite_ the loyal little soldier – quiet chatty, too. Once we found a way to _persuade_ her, there was no stopping the wealth of knowledge we attained. Then she was positively _begging_ to work for us and she's become quite a valuable asset of ours," drawled Savage, brushing Sasha's cheek with his hand.

She remained perfectly still, her eyes betraying nothing. It was like she was dead inside. I was staring at a corpse. A surprising lance of grief struck me but I shoved it away, glaring at Savage, like my anger would hurt him somehow. It was silly.

"Why are you _doing_ all of this? Why are you so obsessed with me, with what I am?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Is this the part where I confess my evil plan?"

"If you would be so kind."

"I think I'm quite okay how things are. Besides, I have what I need now – in the end, all will see the light."

Just like that something inside Sasha change. She burst towards me faster than I thought she was capable, a whir of muscle and blade. Instinct kicked in. I brought the staff up, just as she brought her blade down. Then it clicked. He had whatever knowledge he wanted from Sasha; now, I was disposable. That, or he simply wanted my body and it didn't matter if I was alive or dead. And I had little intention of dying that day. That was for another time.

I flipped back, fighting the simmering nausea as I narrowly ducked and weaved, avoiding her sword. As we danced I caught sight of Savage stepping into his elevator, grinning. Confusion swam in my head, distracting me. My duck was too slow. A whir of silver flashed over my eyes. I felt the sting lashed across my cheek as I staggered back, Sasha on me in a blur, knocking me to the ground.

Beneath her, I was pinned, her sword poised above me and she, staring down at me, her eyes on mine. In the corner of my vision I glimpsed a pale white mist pool out of several vents. Killer? Or something that would knock me out? Or was it never even meant for me? I thought, eyeing the blade, then Sasha.

"Sasha – please, if you're in there, it's _me._ It's Max. You saved me once. You said it was because you weren't a killer. You're not one now. Prove it!"

Her expression flickered, just for a second, then her hand moved. Instinct surged and I threw my weight to the side, knocking her off balance. I grabbed her head and struck it on the ground. Sasha went limp. Panic surged through me. I scrambled over her and checked her pulse. Still breathing. I looked up to the gathering mist and felt sleep tug at my mind, at my already weary body. Grabbing the staff, then pulling Sasha up – my arm looped around her bony waist – and dragged her to the window.

I closed my eyes, then slammed them open, willing energy out from within me. A beam of light exploded out, shattering the glass. I stepped up to the window and saw it hung over the water, yet was still painfully close to the dock. No time to wait, I thought as I leapt into the water. Darkness consumed me whole.

* * *

" **Aren't** you glad you agreed on our meeting spot?" Jason asked with a smirk, leaning against the doorway like he was enjoying this.

I'd only just stopped shivering. Dressed in fresh clothes, I worked on rubbing my hair, trying to dry it. I threw him a glare.

"Shut up." My thoughts changed tracks. "How's Sasha?"

His smirk slipped and he looked uncomfortable, which was weird for a guy that wasn't even _scared_ of death. Still, I knew things like normal people stuff and feelings made him squirm like an eel. Frowning, I set the towel aside and turned to him fully.

" _Jason_."

"She woke up," he said slowly. "But she's different. She's there but not really _there_ ; like the lights are on but nobody is home."

I brushed my hair back, so it ran slick against my head, and followed him into the next room. Sitting in a chair, staring out the window, was Sasha. It was hard to believe it was the same person that fought me, that acted like a pure killing machine. In the chair she appeared little more than a husk. I'd been so _angry_ at her for what she'd done, for whom she'd trusted, and turned her away. How long had Savage had her? As I stepped closer and dared to look into those eyes I knew he'd had her long enough. He'd broken her; tore out everything that made her, _her,_ and shredded her mind.

Gently, warily, I touched her hand, hoping _maybe_ she'd look at me. She remained still, not even reacting to my touch. Blankly, she continued to stare. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest gave any indication she wasn't manikin.

Slowly, I rose, numb and cold inside, and walked into the kitchen. I walked straight up to _that_ bottle of whiskey and yanked out the cork. Just as Jason appeared I started to scull the bottle. Seeing what I was doing he strode over and yanked the bottle out.

"Give it _back_ ," I snarled.

He stared at me, his grip tightening on the bottle. " _No_."

"No? Why the hell not?" I felt my own body crackle with energy, with raw anger and frustration – and shame. So much _shame._ "Last I checked you weren't _averse_ to a little drinking."

"You're drinking to run away and that's not the Max I knew."

My face twisted with a fury I didn't even knew I had. "I'm _not_ that girl you knew, Jason. I grew up. I wasn't going to-"

"Watch me become a monster?" He finished quietly. "I remember what you said when you left. Honestly? I don't blame you. I think there are times and places to run but this isn't one of them. Your friend is in there, hurting, and you're not even _grieving_."

" _And what do you even know about grieving? You've never given a damn about anyone!"_ I all but screamed.

" _I loved you! I still do and that's the shittiest part."_ He paused for a moment, both of us stunned into a revelation. "Let the pain in, let it hurt and _use_ it. I'll make Savage pay, I _promise_ but you need to grieve, and go on. You and I both know Sasha wouldn't want you to push the grief away, let it eat away at you, _destroy_ you and your only chance at saving your people."

I was silent, staring at him like a startled animal, my own heart racing. My hands were shaking – heck, _I_ was shaking. With rage or shame or shock, I didn't know. I didn't want to know, didn't want to analyse all those ugly feelings and _feel._ Yet before me Jason watched me cautiously before he stepped closer, one step at a time, until we were almost chest to chest. I watched him as he reached out and slowly wrapped his arms around me, just like he used to, and drew me into his arms.

There, in that apartment that was choked in ugly words and bitter feelings, in the arms of someone I'd thought behind me, I started to cry – and I didn't stop.


	24. Chapter 24

_It was the middle of the day when a light appeared in the middle of the village; bright and warm, pulsing like a heartbeat. The people came out from their homes to it, drawn by the energy and by its dwindling light. Whispers floated about it, curious but wary, people wondering what had come._

 _Soon the light faded and a figure was seen curled upon the dirt, a young man. Not like the people who gathered around. No, he was something different._

" _What is he?" A young child asked._

 _The woman holding her tightened her grip. "I don't know, El. I don't know."_

 **Chapter 24 Goodbye**

It was just past sunrise when Brainiac's ship pierced the thin layer of cloud over Gotham, hovering to the north of the city. Sirens rang out across the city as a mad scramble to evacuate ensued. From the balcony I watched as people poured onto the streets, clinging to their most valuable possessions, and loading them into cars. Some even packed bikes, choosing a quicker way out of the city when the roads would become inevitably blocked. I heard the cries and screams, heard the pleas for mercy, and even I swore I heard a few scathing remarks of 'not again' and 'aliens, seriously?' Although I suspected that was simply Jason murmuring from the other end of the apartment, since he'd practically refused to talk to me after last night.

 _I loved you! I still do and that's the shittiest part_. The words were still achingly clear, pulsing through me.

Even I'd stayed clear of him, unwilling to confront it. To entangle his feelings with Dicks, to figure out where _I_ felt in the whole messy tumble of it. I looked to the spaceship and sighed. The universe certainly had a sense of humour.

Behind me the front door chimed with several knocks. As I turned around I watched as Jason strode out of his room, gun drawn. Ignoring me he crept to the front door and peered through the hole. His shoulders tensed and he stepped back, turning to throw me a questioning glance.

"Ben Barvolli?"

My eyes widened and I strode to the door, flinging it open, too quick for Jason to put the gun away. " _Benny?"_

"Beautiful, don't suppose you've got something to drink?" He asked, smiling in that glowing way of his.

I nodded and ushered him, closing the door behind. Jason eyed Benny warily, then slowly lowered the gun and slipped it into the back of his jeans. Benny grinned and patted Jason's shoulders.

"Good boy."

That set Jason off. He stepped forward, hands clenched but I stepped between them, a hand charged with energy on his chest. The jolt sent him staggering back, shooting me a frosty look.

"Cool it. Go check on Sasha," I said calmly. He opened his mouth to reply but I held up my hand. "Not now."

Once Jason reluctantly stalked away Benny turned to me with a slow clap and a low whistle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Pinning him with a warning glance I strode into the kitchen and grabbed out a bottle of rum, which seemed to the cheapest bottle Jason had, and poured two glasses. Benny took a seat and I pushed a glass over to him.

"You look so _thrilled_ to see me," said Benny with a smile.

I flicked a hand to the window. "I'm a little busy."

"Oh yes, I know. Guess who has been visiting me? Twice, too! Though his last visit was a little more _demanding_ than I would've liked," informed Benny with a sarcastic drawl.

My hand stilled over my glass. "Batman?"

"Yes. Quite a persistent fellow," remarked Benny. "I had been honest when he first came asking where you were. Then he came back and did the strangest thing in the world."

He paused for a moment, taking a deep sip of the drink. Savouring it, testing it. With an appreciative glance and hum he took another sip and set the glass down, one hand still curled around the glass. I stared at him, waiting for him to go on; then, I realised he wanted me to ask. Always the dance with him.

"What did he do?" I asked.

"Oh, that's right. He wanted me to let you know the League is at your disposal; well, they'll be distracting Brainiac and keeping him away from you while you do whatever you have to do."

* * *

 **Dick** had no idea what to expect, didn't cling to the hope she'd come. Despite Bruce having said he'd used a source to find her and tell her the message, along with the request to meet, he didn't believe she'd come. Whether from distrust of Bruce, or from simply working her own plan. Leaning against his bike, with Bruce off casing the area, Dick was alone, watching the park. Every movement, every flittering shadow, he caught and released a breath, barely able to push away the simmering disappointment.

He scanned the shadowy park, traced every tree and tangled bush, and peered beyond it to the low buildings. Then to the skyscrapers that hulked behind it, towering like glass giants. Somewhere in the city was Max, plotting, readying herself to die. He'd imagined he would be there with her, giving her strength, trying to ignore the overwhelming desire to save her. Somehow. Though he suspected she'd fight it with what energy she had left. Had she left fearing he couldn't control himself in trying to stop her from dying? Did she see him as a problem?

An hour or so later Bruce returned, emerging from a nearby alley, walking swiftly over the car. He made little sound. Only experience let Dick have any warning at all, and not have a heart attack in the process. His old teacher glanced at him but said nothing. Did he, too, think about how Dick would react if he saw Max? If he had any idea Dick wanted to know, since he had no clue how he'd react. Deep down, though, he didn't want to think too much about how he'd react when he saw her.

It was not long after that when there come the low hum of a bike. Given where they were it was hard to pin the direction. In the end it didn't matter to consider it as the bike emerged from around a corner. A lone rider. With all the bike gear on it was nearly impossible to tell if it was female or male, though as they grew closer Dick realised it wasn't Max. They were a fraction too big, their limbs too long and there was something familiar about how they rode the bike. The bike stopped before them, the rider studying both he and Bruce for a moment beneath their helmet. No one spoke. Eventually, the rider lifted off their helmet. Dick froze.

"Jason?"

Jason Todd flashed him a grin. "Hey baby bird." His gaze flickered to Bruce, cooling. "Batman."

"Glitch won't be joining?" Bruce asked calmly, seemingly unruffled by Jason's arrival – had he even known about Max's supposed tie to Jason? And how close was Max to Jason? A former flame – a _current_ flame?

"Later. This is the plan," he said, tossing over a thumb drive.

Bruce caught it effortlessly and slid it into his gauntlet, a holograph popping up above it. Dick didn't look at it. He was staring at Jason, trying to figure out the answers to the thousands of questions that appeared.

Bruce turned to him. "Go with him. I need to get the League into place."

Dick shot a look to Jason. "Go where?"

Jason sat up, his eyes smug. "Not to Max. No, we have been assigned to our own little task. Come on little bird. We have _work_ to do."

* * *

 **The** night was pretty, Sasha decided, as she stared out the window. There were stars and a moon and…well, there _was_ something else. Something she couldn't quite pin down. It was like she had to remember something very important. Oh well, she concluded as she got up from her chair and wandered out of that tiny room. It wasn't really tiny but it wasn't big either. So she decided she didn't much like it. Fortunately, the rest of the place – an _apartment_ – was a little bigger and very pretty.

As she walked about she began to recall things; names of simple things, faint memories, strange but pretty things, and a sky with twin moons. Everything was so muddled up; smells with sights that didn't make sense, a tangled web of words and promises. None of it made any real sense. Some things made her feel happy, others angry and there were many that made her profoundly sad. And she didn't know _why._ Only, that there was a sadness inside of her, so strong that it welled up inside of her, threatening to drown her in it.

Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly, tears stinging her eyes. Panic clawed at her ribs, like a beast frantic to escape its cage. She paced back and forth, rubbing her head, trying to get that mean little beast out. It made her hurt and sad and angry all at once. Whimpers tumbled from her mouth, a cry for help. No one came. Who would? Who was she calling for? She cried for help, sobbed with a grief she didn't understand as she fell to her knees.

"Why are you crying?"

She looked up and saw a young semi-transparent man staring down at her, his eyes kind and soft. Yet behind that profound kindness there was sadness there too, mirroring her own. The words died on her lips as he knelt down and brushed a hand against her cheek. Surprise shot through as his ghostly hand sent sparks shooting across her skin, leaving a gentle warmth behind. It was familiar. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and leant into his touch. With his warmth the bad feelings dissolved, the cacophony of noise in her head grew quiet. Finally, she could hear her own mind again, though that was still a little shaky and muddled but not so loud. Opening her eyes she found him close to her, his eyes searching.

"Who are you?"

Confusion clouded his eyes, which darkened. "They hurt you, Sash." Grief came back and she was suddenly filled with an urge to take it away, to make that smile come back, to chase away the dark. "I should've come sooner. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry."

She reached out and touched his cheek, found it warm and real beneath her hand. "You didn't tell me your name."

"Sam, I'm your Sam."

A smile tugged at her mouth. " _My_ Sam." Her eyes clouded for a moment. "And my name? You said Sash. Is that my name?"

He laughed but seemed to cry at the same time. "Yeah, that's your name."

"And we…we were friends?"

He nodded. "I'd like to think we were more."

A strange feeling seized her, the kind that left a simmering anger in her chest. She pulled back, her brow furrowing deeply. A thought stirred in her mind; faint, at first, then stronger with each breath until it formed on her lips.

"If we were… _friends_ why…why didn't you save me? Friends save each other, right? And…and I was hurt. They did this to me, made me forgetful and confused," she asked, her voice rising with confusion and panic; a thread of anger came to her voice. "They _broke_ me. I'm…I'm broken."

His hand fell to his side, clenched. The anger in his eyes dissolved, a shame whispering there. For a second it made the pain throbbing in her chest weaken, yet that weakness faded and the anger surged again, stronger than ever. Part of her felt like the anger wasn't really for him but for someone else, something her fractured mind couldn't dig up from the shattered pieces left behind in her memory. From what fragments were left she couldn't make much sense of it.

"I had to leave you. There was things that had to be done, people put in place. All leading to this moment. After that, I'm going away for a while," he confessed, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

She was still angry but that sadness from before returned and it made her sore inside. "You're not coming back, are you?"

"No but I couldn't go without saying goodbye, without saying how sorry I was that I had to do what I did in leaving you. I couldn't go without saying that the time you gave me, that it did mean _something._ Despite what I said, what I claimed, they were the happiest days of my life – they give me the strength to go now."

What he said didn't make much sense to her. It didn't clear up the clutter in her head. In fact, it made her chest hurt a little more and her heart pound a little faster. He rose without another word and dissolved into a burst of golden light. When he was gone the room darkened and grew cold. Without any proof he'd been there at all it all felt like a dream, his words already becoming lost in the tangle of her own broken mind. Like he was slipping away. Soon, she knew she wouldn't remember him. So she stood and went out to the balcony, where she saw a great metal ship in the sky. It stirred something in her mind, a flicker of fragments determined to rise up. Something inside her wanted to be said, to be revealed to the world. It rose up and up until it sat on her tongue. She opened her mouth to say it but it fell. It slipped away, dissolving into the depths of her mind.

There was something important she had to say…

Something…important.

* * *

 **I** stood in the darkness of the garage, surrounded by the smells of oil and grease. The cold air slid through her clothes, biting my skin relentlessly. My consolation was that it wouldn't be an issue any longer. I glanced at my watch, which lit up as I tapped it, illuminating the time. Not long left. My phone buzzed. A message lit up the screen.

 _In position. Ready?_

I quickly typed back. _Ready._

It was a bald faced lie, sort of. In one way I was ready to do what I had to do; in another way I was utterly terrified. Scared I wasn't strong enough. It twisted in my gut like a knife. My phone blipped again, sending my heart racing. A reminder popped up. I quickly turned off my phone and slipped it into my jacket. Striding over to the garage door I tapped the control button. The door screeched as it opened, moonlight spilling over me. The docks unfurled before me, the glittering water beyond, the shadow of Brainiac's ship cast over it all. As I stepped out I felt a chill snake down my spine, his presence cloying my skin. It was as though I heard him speak to me, challenging me, _hunting_ me.

I looked to the sky and smiled. _Come and get me._


	25. Chapter 25

{The preview for book 2 has been posted, with the current title 'Rewire'. After this chapter there will be an Epilogue. This chapter may be broken down and extended at a later date but, for now, enjoy and thank you all for your support and comments.}

 _A woman stood atop a white stone cliff, overlooking a great sprawling valley, the grass an endless ocean of green. She fixed her gaze on a tiny settlement at the base of the cliff, sheltered in shadow, and on one side had access to a bubbling brook. The sight of her people made her frown, her fists clench, and anger stirring deep in her soul._

 _The faint breeze stirred, carrying it with the whisper of the distant ocean, far beyond the horizon, and sent shivers rippling across her skin. She rubbed her arms and stepped back, looking out across the valley once more. Behind her, a shadow flittered; then, from it, a dark figure emerged, and took shape, glowing as if filled with starlight. The woman didn't panic as the glowing woman stood beside her, following her gaze._

" _This is as it must be," said the stranger._

 _The woman glanced at her, eyes flashing, a tempest within. "Why? Why must we suffer and starve?"_

" _For the first of our warriors to be born; the first of three," supplied the stranger._

 _The woman's eyes widened. "Why do need warriors?"_

 _The stranger looked at her and tilted her head. "For a war, of course."_

 **Chapter 25 Home**

The first wave of Brainiac's drones descended as the League appeared. Every available member, a wave of colour and power, swept into attack. All except for Dick, whom followed Jason into the latter's apartment, thoroughly confused. In his typical smugness Jason didn't explain why Max had ordered them there, despite Dick's questions. If he was really being honest with himself he agreed to it on some thin hope he'd see Max; after that, or what he'd say to her if he even saw her, he really had no clue. But that was how it was with Max. She left him speechless at the best of times.

Jason strode ahead, seemingly focused on another task and was gone before any questions could be asked. Restless and eagre to return to the fray – he'd be lying if he said he was going just to fight – he wanted to be done with the apartment, and whatever seemingly important task he'd been assigned. It had been humiliating when Batman had agreed to it, having seen the plans Max had drawn up.

Given a few minutes he wandered about the apartment, idly studying a bookshelf. It was crammed with a strange assortment of books, not exactly what he pictured Jason reading. Well, he didn't exactly picture Jason as the bookish type period. As he looked at it he began to realise how little he _knew_ Jason, how much he really didn't understand. He idly picked a book out – _Cloud Atlas_ – and opened the front cover when something small fell to his feet. Frowning, he set the book back on the shelf and picked up what he realised was a small polaroid picture, likely used as a bookmark. He looked at the inscription on the back.

 _6-5-14 Gotham_

Turning it over his blood froze. It was Jason. _And_ Max. Younger, by a couple years it seemed. They were sitting close together, a radiator behind them, and a whiskey bottle in hand. Max was smiling with such a light he hadn't seen before, not even with him, and Jason looked just as happy – and just as in love. Which was strange, since the date tied in awfully close to the events where Bruce discovered Jason's new line of work – in fact, the date was right in the middle of it. Max had been there, as what? His lover? Partner? Shades of Max were becoming illuminated in the final hours.

"What's that in your hand?" Jason's thundering voice shattered Dick's wandering thoughts.

Dick looked up. "You and Max."

Jason's face briefly played out a myriad of emotions before the corner of his mouth twitched, his lips pulling into a thin line. There was a shadow of amusement in his fox-like eyes, a bitterness he hadn't expected.

"Long time ago. Back then I didn't realise one very important thing about Max."

"And what's that?"

Jason slowly took the picture from his hand and looked down at it. "Max will happily take everything you give her – heart, pretty words, cheap dates and booze – and all she'll ever give you back is broken promises and a cold bed."

Dick opened his mouth to argue, to defend Max but he couldn't find the words – and that made him feel ashamed. Angry. Hurt. Frustrated, too, that he couldn't shove away the feelings he had for her. That he felt he'd never lose. Forever haunted by her haunting gaze and thrilling laughter.

"Come on, I need your hand with this – then we can go back to the fight. The quicker we get this done the quicker we can go."

Silent, Dick followed Jason into a small bedroom, where a frail woman sat in an arm chair. Jason approached her softly and whispered something into her ear. Light faintly flickered in those glassy eyes as she glanced up at Jason, then nodded and took his hand as he helped her out of the seat. She wobbled uneasily. Dick shot to her side and she instantly began to lean on him. They led her outside the apartment, where a woman awaited beside a black sedan. She met Jason's gaze and nodded, then opened the door. The frail woman was bundled inside and the door closed behind her. The other woman climbed wordlessly into the car and soon the sedan pulled away from the curb.

"Where is she going?"

"Somewhere safe." Jason turned to him. " _Now_ let's go kill some aliens. Max is about to begin."

* * *

" **This** is _not_ going according to plan," cried Flash as he blurred between robots, taking them down one by one. "They're barely paying any attention to us."

Bruce nodded grimly beneath his cowl. "They're looking for her. Keep them distracted until the signal is given. Do anything you can to keep them focused on you." He looked skywards where Superman was ploughing through the flying scouts. "Superman, draw them further north – try and act like you're trying to keep them from the Docks. We'll act like she's there."

Superman shot away with a clap of thunder. Bruce turned his attention back to the fray, to the drones spreading out across the city. They were hunting and they were _fast._ It was an uphill battle to keep the numbers down and distracted, to keep Brainiac's attention spread thin. On that thought Bruce looked to the ship, which hovered ominously above. Brainiac had yet to appear. He was waiting. Max had yet to begin, which explained his quiet. Once she began there would be a massive surge of energy. She told him Brainiac would flock to it in an instant. All she needed was five minutes; after that, nothing Brainiac could do would stop it. It was just five minutes but it might as well have been an eternity, especially if Brainiac was fixated on her. He'd pay _no_ attention to them.

He leapt into the car and raced off down the streets, spraying the ground drones with a hail of bullets. Turning sharply he made his way down to the Docks. It had to seem like there was a slow losing fight on the Docks, that _that_ was where she was going to appear. There was every chance Brainiac would see through it, of course but Max had given strict instructions. It was a sound plan. It was clear she hoped he'd go to the Docks but played it that if he didn't, he'd still be far away from her, wherever that was. There was at least half a dozen areas she could appear.

"Batman," came the crackled voice of Dick through the comms. "Jason and I are on our way to the Docks. How are we looking?"

"We're fighting an enemy that has no interest in us, only Glitch," he replied gruffly.

On the other end Dick chuckled. "We've got our orders. You trust them?"

"No." It _was_ a sound plan, carefully detailed, but did he trust Max? He was still wary of her, and what would really happen when she was done. Naturally, he had his own plans in place if she double crossed them. If she even stepped out of line the measures he'd set up would snap into place. There would be no escape for her. Regardless, he'd be glad once it was all over.

Dick's comm went quiet. Bruce knew Dick was putting a lot of effort into not going after Max, to do as she ordered. It was admiring and made Bruce proud, and grim, too. Her death would cripple him, if it didn't break him completely. There would be scars. Big ones.

Shaking off thoughts of the aftermath, knowing the only good they'd do would be to distract him, he sped up and swept onto the main road that ran by the Docks. Several drones lay destroyed on the road, Superman standing by them. Bruce stopped sharply and jumped out. As he did a sharp piercing noise split the air, drawing their gazes to the skywards. Bruce's mouth flattened into a thin line.

"It's begun."

Behind him he heard Dick and Jason stop on their bikes. A second later one bike screeched away.

* * *

 **I** was a storm of wild energy, no stability what so ever. My whole body thrummed with it, thundered with bolts of power through my limbs. I felt so _alive_ and yet, it was like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. At the depths of my mind I felt _her_ stir, stretching up through the layers of consciousness, tugging to be set free. Only, I had no idea _how_ to. I stood in the middle of Gotham Park with only the instructions of my people embedded into me, and the plan given to me by my people's guardians.

The girl within me surged again, her consciousness brushing my own, a whispery voice piercing the thin veil between us. _Let go._

Closing my eyes I plunged deep into the energy stored within, a well of seemingly endless energy. It stretched out before me like the universe itself, full of writhing ribbons of energy. Bursts of colour splashed out like bolts of lightning, each as thunderous as the last. Slamming through me. Staring out I realised all of it was _me;_ the raw, untapped energy. All bound up, trapped. Contained with a mortal vessel. That was why I had been made; only this energy stored within someone like me, a genetic monster – not made to last but to do a job, to hold the energy until it was the right time. All fears I had about not being strong enough fell away. I summoned the energy – every inch I could and I forced it out. One big explosion of energy.

The world burst into white.

Sharp, as vivid as the galaxy itself, the world changed around me. The park was there but out of focus, as if viewed through warped glass. What was achingly clear was the rivers of energy flowing around me. Clear and warm, colourless. It wasn't mine, I realised. It was the earth. Yet it was so familiar. What I had seen before had been my senses flooded by what was before me; now, my body accepted, and I wasn't so blinded. I felt free.

Beside me, a figure appeared. It was her. She stared out across the park, her eyes unreadable.

"Its's like I'm back on Kalera," she murmured; her eyes suddenly darkened. "Let's get this over and done with." Turning to me, her eyes were intense and dizzying. "Take my hand."

I reached out to take it when something caught my gaze. A dark figure slammed into the ground, rising up from a plume of smoke. Though I'd never seen him before, not in the flesh anyway, an ancient part of me knew him. His name whispered through me. _Brainiac._ He stood up straighter and seemed to be looking around. Little did he know he was too late. I'd already begun. There was no stopping me now.

A smile began to tug at my lips when I saw another figure appear in the park. My stomach sunk. _No._ Dick had arrived. Did he think to distract Brainiac, to buy me time? But I was already good. He had to know that no matter what Brainiac did it was too late. I had won. I had to tell him, had to make him understand that he should leave. Be safe. My heart constricted.

 _You can't speak to him. If you break the process now he'll see you and he'll kill you,_ said the girl – her real name came to me as her own memories began to flitter amongst my own. _Ellia._

I watched as Dick launched at Brainiac. From the way he fought, dodging and nimbly keeping from reach, I knew he was just trying to buy time. But he'd tire and make a mistake. If Brainiac got him he'd kill him.

 _Don't get emotional now. Don't toy with the future-_ Brainiac's hand snapped out and caught Dick, then slammed him onto the ground. I owed him too much to abandon him now, to leave him to die. Not when he didn't have to. I knew what I had to do.

* * *

 **He** was about to die. As Brainiac loomed over him, ready to kill him, Dick thought how it'd be nice to see Max one last time. He tried to move but his limbs refused to respond. There was no pain, nothing. Though his breath was laboured and he swore he tasted blood in his mouth, he knew that there was some bad damage. He sucked in a ragged breath and stared up. If he was going to die he was going to stare Brainiac in the eye; not because he was deluded enough to think Brainiac might feel guilty but rather that it might make the end easier, if he felt brave enough to stare death in the face.

Brainiac's hand came above him. A few seconds and it'd be over. The hand moved. A bright exploded above him, burning his eyes, blinding him. The light quickly dimmed and a dark shadow fell to the side of him with a thundering bang. He blinked and tried to see what had happened. Beside him, Brainiac lay on the ground, face down. Glancing up, he saw – he saw _Max._ Only, she was glowing and semi-transparent, like she wasn't really there. She looked down at him with sad eyes and knelt down, scooping him up as he weighed nothing. It felt weird to see right through her but be able to held by her, like she really was there. How hard _had_ he hit his head?

She was walking but saying nothing. He tried to move but his body wouldn't respond. He didn't want to think about a possible spinal injury or what it'd mean. If he wasn't dreaming he was relieved to be alive. She stopped suddenly and set him down, gently, like he was made of glass. Without speaking she brushed a hand over his cheek, sending sparks shooting into his skin. A warm spread out from her touch, making him feel sleepy, his eyes heavy. Darkness tugged at him, warm and whispering, a gentle lullaby in his ear.

With a kiss on his cheek he watched as she stood up and turned around. He wanted to call out to her, say something. What, though? What did he- darkness pulled him under as he watched Max dissolve into a burst of light. Her kiss had felt awfully like a goodbye, he realised as the darkness fully claimed him.

* * *

 **It** was like molten metal had been poured over me; every inch of me burning, becoming little more than a consciousness. The surging energy flowed from within me and out into the raging vortex of energy, which thundered and writhed before me. A violent clash of light, streams being sucked in from the darkness which bordered the park. My people, one by one, going home. I wanted to scream and beg for the pain to go away but I had to continue. It wasn't over yet. The vortex before me spluttered and slowed, just for a second. Panic roared within me, prompting a surging wave of energy from within – harder than before, and the fire continued to burn me.

With no physical body I knew it was my essence – the soul or consciousness or whatever you believed made you, _you_ – that was burning. There was no freedom from that. Not yet anyway.

 _Keep going. It's almost done,_ urged Ellia, infusing her own strength with mine, her energy funnelled in as well.

I felt her anticipation for the end; not to re-join the people but to die. There was nothing else for her there, with our people and, on earth, she didn't see a future. Yet, how could she? She'd always lived within me, never even watching really, lost in her own realm of darkness and foggy thoughts. Broken only by the times when I subconsciously called on her, like I did years ago to escape the facility. What life had she really lived? It was right to surrender mine; my purpose was done soon and I wasn't made to live beyond it. I'd come to accept that. Yet Ellia was different. She was an aid, someone whom had the chance, when the time came, to return with the others. Only, I knew she had no interest to do that.

I saw her beside me, resigned but eagre – what life had she lived? My energy began to fade, drawing my focus. I looked to the vortex and saw the threads of energy begin to fade, fewer and fewer passing through, until only the occasional one appeared. Finally, after a seemingly eternal wait, one more final slipped through. My energy began to crackle. I felt so weak, so _tired._ Something tugged at me, like I was encased in string, and someone was tugging me some place. I didn't know where. I was growing too tired to care. Looking to Ellia I realised she wasn't feeling the same. If I left now she'd be lost to this place, eventually slipping into the void, becoming nothing. She saw it as her only future but she hadn't had the chance to live, not really.

Turning to her, I think she realised – no, she must've sensed what I thought because she instinctively began to pull away. I latched onto her before she could escape, and surged the last remaining remnants of me left, and drew on her own dwindled reserves. It wasn't much. Certainly not enough for two but I'd known my trip was one way. I smiled at her.

 _Don't you dare. This is my choice. I want this,_ she hissed angrily.

"Ellia, it's time for you to live."

And I pushed, surrendering swiftly to the tug of the string, and fell into the darkness. Within it, I heard a song, and fell to its tempting tune.


	26. Chapter 26

_She stood atop a glass-smooth ocean, mirroring the galaxy far above; an ocean of stars and moons, of shimmering nebulas and blazing suns. Beneath her feet the ocean was soft, like silk but didn't move or sink beneath her. At first, she was alone, a single life form standing before the universe itself; then, a blazing light burst before her, dimming within a fleeting moment and there stood another like her. A humanoid figure, with skin like stars above, eyes as endless as black holes, and hair of glittering sapphire flecked with stars and moons. They smiled and outstretched a hand, beckoning her._

" _Come, my dear. There is one more mission you must complete before you can truly be with us and there is so little time left."_

 **Epilogue Creation**

 **As** the dust settled Dick tried to search for Max, though he knew she was gone – a tiny sliver of hope pulsed within. He pushed away from Bruce, whom lingered too close, and from the others that slowly came to the park. Some called to him but he didn't hear them. There was a roaring noise in his ear, a pounding in his chest. It erased everything else. He staggered on, feeling sweat cling to his brow, the ache tug at his limbs.

Still, he pushed on and strained his gaze over the park. His eyes caught something. A flicker of movement. Faint, a figure sprawled out on the ground, stirring slowly, rising. The same size and shape as… He was off running before he could think, his feet pounding beneath him. The figure was closer with each stride. A girl, definitely female, with short blonde hair. He stopped suddenly, his chest heaving. The roaring in his ears grew quiet, so he heard the faint patter of feet behind of him, the whispers stirring.

Did he dare to hope? He dared, he dared harder than he had ever before. The girl coughed and groaned. He stilled. A cold seeping into his chest. Slowly, she began to stand and, sensing them, spun around and stared at them. His heart sunk. The eyes, though dark, were too large and her mouth was fuller, her cheek bones sharper.

"Wh-who are you?"

She frowned and touched her cheek. Alarm shot across her face, followed quickly by a dark fury. Not at him; not, at something else. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, her breaths angry. After a moment she seemed to calm and opened her eyes, fixing them on him.

"Ellia. My name…my name is Ellia."

* * *

 **Vandal** Savage strode down a long hallway, lit by regular intervals of harsh white lights. He was shadowed by a tiny woman in a white lab coat, her face hidden behind a pair of glasses and a front fringe. Her shoes clicked on the ground with each step, the only real indication she was there at all. That's what he liked about her. She was quiet and efficient, never minding the jobs he gave to her. With the swiftness and meticulousness she acted he sometimes remarked she was like a robot. She didn't seem to like that, frowning faintly. That, in itself, was funny to him, since that was the only emotion she let slip.

Focusing on the door up ahead he slowed. His assistant strode ahead with surprising speed and swiped her pass, pushing the door open as he neared. He stepped into a small room, dark for only second as she tapped a switch and a bright light illuminated the room, and the glass window before them. The other side of the glass was dark, nothing seen beyond, though he knew exactly what lay beyond. He felt his heart race a little faster. Years of experiments were finally producing results. Finally. All he'd done, everything he'd painstakingly organised and sacrificed, was finally paying off. No more acting in the shadows. No more. Soon, he'd bathe the world in light, _his_ light.

His assistant looked up at him. "Ready, sir?"

"Show me."

She nodded and approached the glass, then waved her pass over a small panel. A light burst to life from the other side of the glass, lighting the tiny room. At the back of the room, a young woman; rich dark skin, with short raven black hair and the most intense pair of dark eyes. She stared back at him, bold and unafraid. She wore a plain white shirt and cotton pants, which clung to her firm, muscular build.

"Her ageing?"

"As requested. She will age at a rate much slower with an unpredictable life span. She possesses exceptional self-healing, a natural affinity to energy-based tasks and a high intellect. On the last point she has achieved a IQ far higher than originally requested," said his assistant calmly.

"And her obedience?"

"As requested."

"Then the increased intelligence won't be an issue. What about the chip? Has it been installed?"

She nodded and held out her tablet, showing a digital human body with the head illuminated. A tiny square glowed at the base of the neck and, beside it, a series of command. He met her gaze.

"It's programmed, sir. At the first sign of complications the chip will be activated and deliver a fatal shock to the brain. We've also made copies of all our data and can replicate a new subject, though time will have to be spared to ensure proper maturation and training," she replied quietly. "The process will be quicker with another subject after this, around two months."

"Very good." He glanced towards the girl again. "Is she ready?"

Beside him, she nodded and tapped her tablet, then gestured for him to go ahead. "Ready, sir."

He stepped up to the glass and spoke into a small microphone set in the glass. "Step forward and kneel."

As directed the woman stepped forward fluidly and knelt without hesitation. He stepped back and smiled at his assistant. "Perfect."

* * *

 **In** the midday sun, the heat was surprisingly gentle. It wasn't the height of the hot season, so the lone man wasn't sweating yet. With the faint breeze stirring across the field he'd been tending, he felt cooler. He was finished cutting grass for the morning, so he decided to head back. Picking up his tools he started the trek across the field to the distant row forest that clustered nearby, growing dense from the lush river that flowed through it.

By the time he reached the fringe of the forest his stomach was growling for food. There was no animals ready to eat, only a few baby poultry-like creatures and a few older animals for breeding. Luckily, he had some grain stored, and he'd fish later in the river for dinner. Otherwise he'd just eat another vegetable stew and since he'd long run out of dried herbs it'd be plain. Grimacing, he suddenly wished he'd learnt more about seasoning from the locals before they left. When they vanished one by one in bursts of light they explained they were going back to their true home and they left him all of their mortal possessions. It gave him plenty to survive with but he was beginning to miss their conversation. It had only been a couple days and he was lonely. He'd long accepted he wasn't going back to his real home, so he'd resigned himself amongst the locals. Now they were gone and he had to resign himself to the silence. To the smothering, endless silence.

He followed a well-worn path through the forest to a small village clustered by the river, with a wall of rock nearby from a steep hill. There, he had a house built into a small cave, and a small fire pit outside. He quickly knelt by the fire and, using his hands, moved them so rapidly that the heat generated made sparks. A few moments later a small fire crackled away. He rose and collected some vegetables he'd found and put it into a small pot. Once he gathered a small amount of water he fished out his collection of dried herbs from a shelf in his makeshift kitchen, he added it all together and sat by the fire. The sun trickled through the treetops, spiral patterns dancing across the forest floor.

The stew began to boil away and began to smell wonderful. He gathered his bowl and spoon, then set about pouring when a sudden burst of light exploded nearby. A gust of wind shot out, smothering the fire. Energy crackled over his skin, right through him. He shot to his feet as the light dimmed and a woman stood there. She looked around, alarmed and confused, then her hand brushed her stomach. She froze and looked down, her eyes freezing on the small bump that was there. A baby, if he wasn't wrong. He cleared his throat, her eyes snapping to his.

"Who are you?"

He froze. _English?_ It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and he cleared his throat again. "I'm Wally. Wally West – you?"

She frowned for a moment, like she wasn't sure; then, she looked up again and seemed unsettled. "Max, Max Willoughby. What the hell are you doing on Kalera?"


End file.
